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The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 01

By: Edscribblings



Author's note: This story is set in the fictional country of Upper Danubia. Those unfamiliar with Danubia might want to check out EC's excellent novels first since those are the original works my story is based on. My characters are original but nearly everything else was borrowed from EC's fiction (caligula97236).

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Chapter 1: Information Bandits

Arthur Liggett had hot sweaty feet; blame the muggy Louisiana air that showed up a month early. He flopped back in his supervisor's expensive new office chair. It was so soft and comfortable; no wonder Gary didn't let anyone else sit in it. Arthur yanked off his work boots, threw his wet socks on top of Gary's desk and then he stretched out, letting the cold dry air from the floor vent blow between his toes. There was simply nothing better than air conditioning.

Arthur fidgeted constantly as he waited for the diagnostic to finish. There was nothing left to do but stare at a computer screen. The software's progress bar seemed stuck at 75%.

He went to the bathroom sink to wash the sweat off his face. His reflection made him smirk; his hardhat had left weird globe-like indentions on his head. Arthur wet his face and leaned toward the mirror. His features were sharp; with a narrow nose, dark blue eyes, and a thin straight mouth. To some people, his resting facial expression seemed aloof or playful. Some suspicious people even claimed that Arthur Liggett looked like he was always up to something.

His co-workers had left work at five-thirty; just Arthur and the crickets stayed late. For some reason there were always black field crickets loose in the lab; chirping in shaded spaces behind desks, printers, and filing cabinets.

The computer beeped. Arthur made sure the install was complete and the network was connected; then he clicked shutdown. The office phone rang.

"Lusty Lady's Escort Service," Arthur's face lit up mischievously: "This is Gary, may I help you?"

There was silence for a couple seconds, and then a man sighed. "Really, Arthur... an escort service?" The man sighed again in a tired way. "I'm at my office, come and see me." He hung up the phone before Arthur could respond.

Arthur grabbed his boots and stepped out the back door at the end of the hall. A skinny reddish brown beagle stood ten paces away. The dog looked at him warily then sat to scratch at its neck. Arthur went back inside and turned left into the employee break room.

He searched the refrigerator. On the top rack there was a white Styrofoam container. It had 'Gary' written on the top and underlined twice in red marker. Arthur peeked inside and found something that resembled meatloaf. He put that one on the table and then he found another container that said: 'Kosher' on top. Uncertain about the dog's religious beliefs, Arthur grabbed it too and headed outside.

He whistled and the stray came close, licking its lips and wetting its nose. Arthur opened the trays on the sidewalk and watched the dog eat his co-worker's food. He smiled; it felt good to be so generous and compassionate. After the dog washed the Styrofoam clean Arthur put the trays back in the refrigerator and headed toward the white Chevy in the gravel parking lot.

He threw his hardhat in the floorboard of the company pickup truck and drove across the dirt parking lot, between a row of trailers and metal sheds. He slowed at the intersection. Flatbed trucks with heavy loads of black drill tubes and service trucks hauling industrial sized generators and gas welding equipment set lined up to either side, mostly blocking the view.

Half a mile down a two lane paved road, he pulled off at the entrance to another fenced complex. Arthur stopped at the gatehouse and waved his ID card. The scrappy new security guard insisted on examining the laminated photo ID up close, she looked at the card; then at him.

"Thank you Mr. Liggett." She said. "Sorry to stop you but we're having to step up security; there've been some theft issues reported recently."

"Is that right?" Arthur took back his ID.

"Mmm hmm... Yes we have," she complained, "and then on top of that we've had animal control up here twice this week... I think somebody's been feeding stray animals."

Arthur shook his head. "Some people are completely irresponsible. I'll keep my eyes open ma'am and if I see anything suspicious I'll be sure to let you know."

"Thanks hun," she said. "How late you work anyway?"

"Until Mr. Neal says I'm done, I guess. I have some important results to give him, he hasn't left yet has he?"

"No hun, that man works late bout every night," She wagged a finger. "Now don't let'em turn you into workaholic too."

She waved as he drove toward the office. Arthur parked outside the three-story brick building. Mr. Neal's office was on the first floor, the door was open and his lights were on. Arthur walked in. Mr. Neal leaned back in the world's most comfortable office chair with his mouth open, snoring.

Arthur cleared his throat. Mr. Neal grunted then straightened up in his chair, blinking rapidly. "Uh... um... oh it's you. You... you um... got that network and... uh... stuff ready."

"Good to go," Arthur said. "By the way did you see yesterday's results?"

"Ugh..." Mr. Neal groaned. "I don't want to see them."

"But these are very interesting... I circled the best parts." Arthur put the folded sports page down on his boss's desk.

"Arthur," Mr. Neal grumbled as he smoothed down his neatly trimmed mustache and beard. "You've got to be the luckiest son of a bitch I ever seen... the Astros!" He sighed with disgust: "Fucking Marlins." Mr. Neal put on his reading glasses and sighed as Arthur enjoyed his grief, then he opened a desk drawer. "Fifty?"

"Yep."

"Hmm... here's uh... twenty, pay the rest next week, okay?"

"Sure." Arthur noticed how tired his boss looked; his bloodshot eyes had dark circles underneath. Mr. Neal's normally pressed shirt was wrinkled and his office smelled like he'd started smoking again.

"Have a drink?" Mr. Neal reached for a cabinet drawer. He found a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels and slid a shot glass toward Arthur's hand. "I don't have any ice."

"It's a cruel world." Arthur tasted his warm bourbon. Mr. Neal threw his back and poured another.

Mr. Neal glanced down. "You're not wearing shoes."

Arthur shrugged. "My feet got hot."

"Steel-toed boots are required for your job, you know."

"Sure I know," Arthur said. "I've got a pair in the bed of the truck."

Mr. Neal grinned: "You just don't give a shit about what other people say, do you Arthur?"

"Well... I wouldn't put it like that exactly. When I need boots, I wear boots. People don't need to control everything I do, do they?" 

Mr. Neal laughed without humor. "Arthur, don't ever get married." Mr. Neal threw back another shot and grimaced. "It's nothing but torture... you give everything to a woman..." He exhaled a short angry breath. "She's living in my house, driving my car, fucking some other guy and I have to pay the bitch alimony... half of everything that I earn goes to child support or her pocket!"

Arthur downed another one and started to feel the warmth in his belly, the comfortable drowsiness of alcohol. Arthur's thoughts drifted as his boss ranted.

"I just need one more shot at it..." His boss said at one point, apparently talking about some big wager he'd lost. Neal was sounding like a gambling addict; Arthur figured that had something to do with his recent divorce.

"But what she doesn't know is that I get money off the books... fuck Liz and her fucking lawyer!" 

Arthur wondered if his boss were sober would he still be telling him this.

"Arthur," Neal leaned forward shaking his head. "I just need some help, I need somebody to... you know, help with a little project of mine."

Arthur shrugged: "If the site work's done just send the files to me or Gary, all the logs and stuff..."

"No... It's not for work. I've got this job on the side."

"You have time for two jobs?"

"Well... it doesn't take much time really. There's a businessman who... pays me for information from time to time. He's big in the futures markets. There's a new play in Eastern Europe they need help with."

"Eastern Europe?" Arthur exclaimed in surprise; his office dwelling boss always seemed to rely on other people's technical skills. "No offense, Mr. Neal but what do you know about oil fields in Europe?"

"Not a thing, but I don't need to. They just want some files accessed." Mr. Neal shook his head. "But it's just been so long since I've done that kind of thing... I've been reading manuals and trying to figure it out but I don't know... computers really aren't my thing."

"What software?"

"CR... uh... what is it?"

Arthur guessed: "The CRS suite?"

"Uh... yeah, I think so."

"4.3 or the new one?"

"Ah, hell I don't know," Mr. Neal sighed in an exhausted way. "I'm not much of a tech guy."

Arthur shrugged. "I could give you some pointers, I guess."

"I have to be over there Tuesday."

"This upcoming Tuesday?" Arthur cringed. "I don't know, I mean, I do this all the time and it took me over a week to... uh, wait a second. It is... the English version, right?"

Mr. Neal held his head in both hands. "Oh god..." He closed his eyes for a long time.

"So they can just hire someone else, right?" Arthur shrugged. "I mean really, it's pretty ridiculous to hire you to go all the way to Europe just to copy some files."

Mr. Neal exhaled a breath he'd been holding. "No, I said I could do this... I need this payment, I owe a lot of money Arthur."

"Hmm..." Arthur put his glass down on the desk. "This all sounds like the plot of a bad gangster movie." Arthur stood up, smirking. "Thanks for the drink Mr. Neal but I think I'm going to get out of here before some wise guys come by to whack you."

"Damn it, Arthur, just sit down... I thought you'd be at least a little sympathetic..."

Arthur took a sharp breath then he nodded slowly. "Oh... I see. You want me to do it..."

Mr. Neal leaned forward in his chair. "What do you say?"

"I don't know what exactly you're trying to get me into but I'm not interested."

Neal glared: "I could fire you."

"About that," Arthur pointed out: "See... you just told me you're selling company secrets." Arthur stepped toward the door. "You're not really going to fire me."

"Listen... I... I'm sorry," Neal looked even more tired and miserable. "I didn't mean it. It's just the stress I'm under. Come on Arthur; help me out. I help you out all the time. Do you know how many complaints Gary's filed about you? I'm the only one that's keeping him from transferring you to some god awful basecamp in Alberta Canada. Do you want to live in Canada?"

"Well, of course not," Arthur said. "No one wants to live in Canada."

"This job will just take two days, that's all."

Arthur grinned. "And how many years in prison?"

"It's not like that... just sit down. Hear me out." Mr. Neal frowned. "Okay... I'll admit it... it's not strictly legal but there's not really much risk either. These businessmen that I'm helping are just trying to do what's right; the world needs energy, Arthur. Between Russia and the Middle East, these state run companies control the market. Private companies, like the one you work for, are being squeezed out. In this case there's a prime target for exploration located in the most backwards country you've ever heard of."

"Oh no..." Arthur feigned horror. "You want to send me to Texas!"

"This is serious! Listen... this little country in Eastern Europe is in completely over their heads but their government won't let any foreign contractors in without agreeing to pay millions up-front. The resources might be worth it or they might not. As you could imagine, those companies don't want to go in blind, they need information real bad."

Arthur shrugged: "So just pay some nerd in Backwardistan to get the files for you. Give'em a goat or a virgin or... how about a virgin goat?" 

Neal scoffed: "They won't help; that's the problem! They're completely unreasonable. Arthur, if we could just get a copy of their data it would be better for everyone."

"Everyone, meaning you and your buddies?" Arthur turned to leave.

"Listen, you'd be helping the people in that country too. There's no way they can capitalize on the full potential of their resources without modern technology, and we have that, so everyone wins."

Arthur took a step toward the door, ready to leave. "I think I'll pass." 

Mr. Neal stood. "You'll get money for the job and... um... I can get you a twenty percent pay raise next year, and two weeks paid vacation."

Arthur laughed: "Just how desperate do you think I am for a vacation?"

Mr. Neal grimaced: "And twelve thousand dollars."

Arthur stopped. "Up front? Twelve thousand dollars cash? Hmm... wait... I thought the ex had all your money."

"I've got some put away at my house."

Arthur scratched at the back of his head, thought about it and then sat down again. It wouldn't hurt to hear the details. "So where is this mystery oil field anyway?"

Mr. Neal tapped on his glass nervously, pausing a long while, and then he leaned forward and whispered: "Arthur, have you ever heard of a country called Upper Danubia?"

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He felt the nose of the plane dip; heard the pilot talking to the tower. Arthur looked out the window as the plane broke through a thin layer of clouds. It was still two hours before dawn. A large river meandered below: a black rope through a rough gray landscape of treetops. The plane banked steeply and to the south. Arthur could make out the lights of a sizeable city. Danube City, the capital of the Grand Duchy of Upper Danubia. 

Arthur tried to steady his nerves, he could hardly believe he was actually doing this, but it was thrilling. And lucrative, he had Mr. Neal's twelve thousand dollars buried in his apartment's freezer now. Arthur also had five thousand dollars in his pocket and would soon get another five. It was an exceptionally exhilarating and terrifying feeling.

But his new employer made his skin crawl; Arthur would be glad to part company with that man at the end of the day. This businessman had been waiting inside a chartered plane in Berlin. When Arthur climbed aboard the man introduced himself as Peter Rumak. Rumak wore a pale gray business suit that matched his eyes. He had some gray mixing into his brown hair but Rumak seemed outwardly strong and fit.

Rumak's manner was imperious and arrogant; he had just thrown the envelope of cash down at Arthur's feet and made him pick his payment up off the floor, perhaps to make the point of who was in charge. Arthur wasn't sure if Mr. Rumak's accent was German or Russian, but the man's English was perfectly understandable, though when Rumak spoke it was only to give orders.

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The train ride east was three times longer than the flight. There was a stop at a town about half an hour from Danube City. At one point Arthur looked out the window and saw something shocking: inside the busy train station there were two naked guys carrying luggage, right in the middle of the station busy with morning commuters.

Arthur turned to his new employer, who had the row seat beside him. "Mr. Rumak... look at that!" Arthur snickered. "There are two naked dudes standing right out there! What the hell?"

Rumak glanced up casually, said something in a foreign language and then focused on Arthur. "I do not pay you for conversation," he said. "Study your documents and be silent. You will not speak unless I tell you to speak."

Arthur was getting tired of his new employer's declarative sentences but considering the money that Rumak offered; Arthur figured he could put up with it for a day.

The train slowed considerably through the rugged mountainous stretch. Rumak insisted that Arthur spend the three-hour journey studying technical reports. Arthur thought it was ridiculous, all he really needed was access to the computers, he didn't need to know the whole natural history of Danubia. Regardless, he had little else to do so he read every document thrice by the time they made it to Rika Chorna.

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The Rika Chorna train station was packed, lines of commuters held their tickets waiting to board. Rumak picked up a black briefcase from the luggage cart. It was strange; Arthur couldn't recall him having it when he boarded the train. Rumak spoke at least passable Danubian; he stepped outside and hailed a cab. The cab let them off beside a row of office buildings on the East side of the city. Rumak gave the driver what must have been a large tip; the driver waited as Arthur and Rumak stepped out onto the road.

Rumak looked calm and collected. Standing with his briefcase in hand, he turned: "It is but a short distance." He motioned Arthur to walk down the sidewalk beside him. "Why are you here?" Rumak asked the question casually, without turning his head.

"I'm a systems consultant," Arthur swallowed. "I'm here to troubleshoot some reported malfunctions in their network."

"Who do you work for?"

"I do contract work for Krain Networking Systems."

"Who am I?" Rumak asked.

"Peter Rumak, a company manager and my supervisor."

"Good, but do not speak unless asked, only answer what is asked and remember Mr. Liggett; do stay calm."

Easy for him to say, thought Arthur as he followed the man with the black briefcase into the courtyard of a newly constructed complex. 

The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 02



Chapter 2: The Arrest

Officer Trnava Stashak had gotten ready for her morning patrol before it was even seven o'clock. Her partner who had a wife and two young kids never came in so early; no she wouldn't be seeing Officer Detynik Andreis for another thirty minutes. He always walked his five-year-old boy to school every morning before making his way to the police station.

Officer Stashak picked up their assignments from the Chief's office and then decided to step outside to wait for her partner to appear. The sun was just rising over the massive stone courtyard of the Governor's Palace. It was going to be the type of warm bright day that made patrolling Rika Chorna a pleasure. After a few minutes of relaxing she spotted her partner across the boulevard in front of the Ministry of Public Works having a conversation with a criminal grounds keeper. 

Trnava just grinned and shook her head. Officer Andreis was a decorated and experienced policeman who had proven himself on the force for almost eight years but his friendly behavior toward the city's collared criminals was a bit strange. He would only require them to kneel long enough to satisfy protocol, and then afterwards it wasn't unusual for him to talk casually with a criminal right out in the open. If they got to choose who their arresting officer was, there would be a line forming outside his office. The judicial punishments he administered, while harsh enough to satisfy the judge, were nearly always on the lenient side. Yes, Officer Andreis sometimes seemed too kind hearted for this line of work.

The streets were starting to fill with morning commuters. Since serious crime was rare in Rika Chorna; Stashak focused her efforts on punishing lesser offenses such as littering or disturbing the peace. In just two months she had used up a whole book of citations already, bringing in a fair amount of money to the department.

Then Stashak saw a disturbance up ahead. A perpetrator veered off the road and across a pedestrian sidewalk, recklessly jumping off the curb. A couple pedestrians had to leap to the side.

Officer Stashak rushed out onto the street. "You there, Stop!"

The teenage girl skidded to a stop; her skin lost all color.

Officer Stashak ordered the girl to put down the kickstand and get off her bicycle. Stashak rose up to her full height. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

The girl shifted her weight from foot to foot nervously. "I... uh..."

"Marinya, do you know it is against the law to ride a bicycle on the sidewalk or the lawn?"

The girl was starting to cry. "Um... yes... yes Officer Stashak."

Stashak tapped the handle of her police switch with a finger, letting the girl sweat it out for a while before giving the girl a stern warning and sending her on to school. Normally she would give the girl's parents a ticket but Stashak felt extra generous that day.

Meanwhile, Officer Andreis concluded his conversation with the criminal and crossed the boulevard to meet his junior partner. Stashak saluted Andreis.

He returned the salute. "Whew... you looked very intimidating there, Officer Stashak... almost scared me! I would say that your patrol will have the best behaved children in all of Danubia."

Stashak blushed. "Oh, why do you tease me like this?"

"Maybe you remind me of my little sister." Andreis grinned. "So Officer Stashak, where do the fates throw us today, I would hope it's in the direction of a good coffee shop." 

She smiled shyly. Officer Andreis was both handsome and charming; Stashak thought the other women on the force must be jealous of her, if Andreis were only a few years younger and unmarried... No, she told herself, she already had a boyfriend and they were a happy young couple, really they were.

She pushed aside such foolish thoughts and focused on the business at hand. "The Chief wants us to head over to the eastern side of the business district; they're replacing a water-main this morning, so they need us to re-rout traffic and keep people out of their way. They want us over there before the heavy equipment arrives at about nine o'clock."

"There is a little diner on the way, next to the Farmers Market." Andreis remarked. "Perhaps you will forgive my impudence if I treat you to a cup of coffee?"

After a good cup of black coffee they continued to the site of the water-main break. It was eight-thirty in the morning already but nothing was happening. The foreman furiously barked into his radio about all the delays, and then he really went off the edge throwing his clipboard to the ground and stomping off toward his work crew. 

" See," Officer Andreis observed. "Now that's what would happen to me if I didn't stop after my second cup." With the significant delay in work on the water main, he decided that it would be best if he and his junior partner patrolled to the east for a while. 

This part of the Business District had rows of office buildings to either side but at the very end of the street and the edge of the city was the new Rika Chorna Technology Center; a collection of several brown brick buildings in a campus-like setting. Just a few of the facilities were finished though, standing at the main entrance Officer Andreis could see empty bicycle racks out front. It appeared that no one was working at the Tech-Center yet. Curious by nature, he decided to have a look around. 

Stashak really wasn't that interested in exploring a bunch of vacant buildings, so she volunteered to go back to the intersection in case the workers showed up early, and perhaps to enjoy a second cup of coffee. She traveled back alone, greeted the foreman who had calmed down some, and then a noise caught her attention. The industrial park was a kilometer to the west and south so it wasn't that unusual to hear noisy bangs and crashes, but Stashak thought the noise sounded an awful lot like gunfire.

She paused a second, wondering what to do, not wanting to be the rookie cop that over- reacts and makes a fool of herself. It surely wasn't gunfire, not in Danubia. Stashak decided to be cautious; she contacted the dispatcher on the radio and reported a suspicious noise to the east, then she made her way quickly toward the Tech Center, where she would meet up with her partner. At the entrance Stashak paused and checked her revolver, feeling somewhat foolish she walked in.

Stashak called out her partner's name. He didn't answer. She walked into the center of the rectangular courtyard and called out louder and again he didn't answer. Rookie or not she now felt justified in calling for backup. She radioed in, put a reassuring hand on her revolver and walked from building to building. The first three were dark inside with locked doors. At the far end of the courtyard there was a one-story brick building. A sign outside read Computer-Modeling Center. The plate glass in the front door was shattered and scattered on the sidewalk.

Her right hand went to her revolver and her left found her police radio; Stashak's voice shook as she reported the break in. Gripping the revolver in her right hand, Stashak braced it with her left but the sights on the barrel still trembled constantly as she aimed at the glass door. She called out: "This... this is Officer Stashak of the Rika Chorna Police Force." Her voice seemed high and panicked; she trembled, hoping that backup would arrive soon. Real life wasn't like training at the academy at all. "Who is inside? Identify yourselves!"

A police siren sounded to the east. Her radio went off confirming there were officers in route. Stashak took a half step closer to the door; the lower glass was shattered except for a few jagged shards. Inside it was dark but there was something on the floor, down the hall ten meters. She lowered into a crouch to look through the opening. Every noise seemed amplified; she could hear the beep of a telephone left off the hook. Stashak took a sharp breath, the thing on the floor was a leg. Someone was lying on the floor. A polished shoe reflected light. "Andreis." She whispered louder: "Andreis!"

She felt panic take over. A police car raced into the courtyard behind her. They took action, they cleared the building, they found her partner on the floor. She stood helplessly and watched as others administered first aid. The ambulance came as she watched. Her radio was busy with traffic. 

"Officer down," Someone said. "Request immediate medical attention!"

"Armed suspect north of the Industrial Canal." Reports the dispatcher's voice over the radio.

There were a dozen sirens around her and more to the south. Her radio crackled: "Suspect shot... request ambulance." Then seconds later: "Cancel request for ambulance, suspect is dead."

Dispatcher's voice came over the radio: "Second suspect seen traveling on foot, north of the rail line; consider armed and dangerous..."

The medics had her partner on a stretcher. They moved past her toward the ambulance. She gasped. Andreis's eyes were rolled back in their sockets and the hair on the right side of his head was saturated in blood. "Detynik," she cried. They had a clear mask over his mouth and nose, his shirt was cut down the middle and pushed aside, blood stained the blue uniform an appalling purple. One medic walking alongside the stretcher had his fingers inside a wound on Andreis's upper abdomen, trying frantically to clamp an artery that gushed in quick spurts.

After her partner was loaded into the ambulance Officer Stashak stood in silence at the building's entrance. Andreis's blood had dripped all along the sidewalk. A hundred meters to the south several police officers had the gunman's young partner handcuffed and on his knees. She didn't feel anger or terror or anguish, right then, standing there over her partner's drying blood she felt nothing at all. 

Her lieutenant approached. "Trinova, I'm having a driver take you back to the station so you can give your statement to the inspector. As soon as you're through with that you'll be dismissed for the day, I'm sure you want to go to be with Officer Andreis at the Hospital." 

"Don't concern yourself with this suspect," he urged her along. "I guarantee we can make him talk. This partner of the gunman is going to have a very unpleasant day. We're going to take him over to the old shop and get him ready for the inspector." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Detynik is strong; he's going to make it." 

---------

Arthur had been kneeling on the sidewalk for several minutes when a policewoman got him up and removed his handcuffs. Twenty cops formed a rough circle around him. The woman glared at Arthur and issued a command, and even though he couldn't understand what she meant, his failure to comply angered the woman. She slapped him hard across the face. 

"I don't know what you want." 

She grabbed a fist-full of his shirt and pointed to the ground. Bewildered, Arthur glanced where she had pointed but there was nothing but concrete. She slapped him again then motioned as if taking off her own shirt. 

"You want my shirt?" Arthur unbuttoned the shirt and looked at the policewoman. She nodded. 

Arthur removed the shirt and placed it on the ground. Then the policewoman pointed to his shoes. As Arthur removed his shoes he had a frightening thought. This woman surely wouldn't demand that I take off all my clothes. As if in reply she pointed to his pants. 

Arthur stood at the center of a ring of angry cops wearing only a thin pair of boxers now. As he expected the policewoman demanded he strip off the last of his clothes. In front of twenty police officers, half of them women, Arthur reluctantly pushed the waistband of his shorts down over his hips and let them fall around his ankles. The expression in the face of the policewoman changed to a malicious smile when she noticed him trying to cover himself with his hands. 

There was nothing she enjoyed more than humiliating a young man, especially a foreigner who was not used to public nudity. She would enjoy herself today, it was even better since the suspect tried to cover his nakedness, by forcing him to expose his naked body in front of a crowd she could embarrass him twice. 

While another policeman gathered up his clothes she pulled out her baton and stepped behind him. Arthur felt her hand grasp his wrist; she issued another order then forced both hands behind his head. He felt the tap of her baton on the inside of his right calf; she was ordering him to spread his legs. The policewoman wasn't satisfied until his feet were set almost a meter apart. 

Arthur felt the cold metal baton drag over his right thigh and up across his buttocks as she circled back in front of him. The woman seemed to feed on his humiliation, while the other cops looked angry she had an almost hungry look in her eyes. Arthur trembled a bit as she examined his face then her eyes went lower. He felt the baton move slowly up his right thigh until it touched his testicles. She applied just enough upward force to be painful while she made what must have been a series of crude comments about his manhood. Arthur stood completely exposed and under the merciless policewoman's control as her audience enjoyed his embarrassment. 

After several minutes of this degrading treatment Arthur was forced to his knees. She cuffed his hands behind his back and put another pair of shackles on his ankles, then pulled him to his feet. The policewoman smiled as she prodded Arthur forward with her baton, toward the entrance and the busy street beyond. 

Arthur was mortified as dozens of people on both sides of the road stopped to examine the naked young man in chains that the police escorted down the street. Men and women stared, teenagers laughed, and children pointed as he shuffled awkwardly in his shackles. Five minutes later the police reached their destination: an old masonry structure that had a garage door at the front. After seeing the cruel looks on the cop's faces Arthur feared the worst. 

---------

After spewing what must have been a series of insults the policewoman left Arthur alone. Then the lights were turned out. Arthur found that with his arms hoisted behind his back so high in the air he was unable to rest in any way. He couldn't stand up straight without wrenching his shoulders out of socket but his hands were pulled too far off the ground to even allow him to rest on his knees. 

Every muscle in his back and shoulders was burning, and the soreness in his arms and legs intensified with the slightest movement. The cool damp air in the room was also taking its effect. While the temperature wasn't exactly cold, being naked and standing on the concrete floor certainly made the cool air feel frigid. As hours passed he shivered uncontrollably, shaking from both the pain and the cold. 

After an excruciating wait the door banged open and the lights came on. Startled by the noise, Arthur flinched and twisted sideways but somehow managed to keep his balance. Some of the same cops were back, but along with them there was an older policeman dressed in a more elaborate uniform. As this man walked in front of him, Arthur struggled to rotate his head upwards enough to look him in the face. 

"You are Arthur Liggett, from America. Is this so?" The man spoke in strangely accented but understandable English. 

"I... I want a lawyer."

The inspector nodded and a policeman pulled the chain, wrenching the suspect's arms up higher. Arthur yelped out in pain. The inspector roughly grabbed Arthur by the chin, tilting his face up. "Do you believe you are in the United States now?"

Arthur managed to say: "No."

"You will refer to me as sir or inspector."

"No sir."

"Perhaps we should start again: what is your name?"

Arthur's voice shook from the pain: "Arthur Liggett, my name's Arthur Liggett!"

"Mr. Liggett... I am Inspector Marchik. As the head investigator for this crime you were involved in, it is my duty to understand exactly what occurred today and," the inspector stared directly into the suspect's eyes. "Have no doubt I will find out everything you know." 

"I'll tell you anything you want to know." Arthur pleaded. "Please... just let me down." 

"First you answer all my questions to my satisfaction. Look at me when I ask you a question." Arthur struggled to raise his head with his arms hoisted high behind him.

The inspector pointed a finger in Arthur's face. "You are in a great deal of trouble Mr. Liggett, but if you cooperate I might help lessen your suffering. You have a decision to make. Will you answer my questions or do you want to spend the night here?" 

"Let me down sir... please... I'll tell you anything." 

"We have been over this before; first, you answer my questions. This dead partner of yours, who shot one of our officers who is he?"

"Rumak... Peter Rumak but I didn't know...."

The Inspector cut him off: "What is his real name?"

"I... I don't know. I just met him, he hired me last night." 

"Hired you to do what?" 

"He needed me to get computer files."

"What was he going to do with these files?" 

"It was for... um... some kind of business deal for his clients." 

"And how much did he pay for your services?" 

"Five thousand dollars before... five thousand after." 

"So for ten thousand dollars you will break our laws, steal from us, and try to kill a police officer. Is this right?" 

"No..." Arthur pleaded. "I... I didn't know... I didn't mean to break your laws; I didn't know what he was going to do... I didn't try to kill anyone!" 

The inspector grabbed a handful of hair and pulled up so he could look Arthur in the eyes. "You had better be able to prove what you say." Then the Inspector turned to his subordinates and gave an order. 

That order, Arthur discovered, was to clean the suspect up by spraying him with a water hose. They let him hang there shivering till he dried. 

--------- 

A half hour later Arthur was thrown into the back of a van and taken inside an imposing five story steel and glass building that was the Police Headquarters. The officers forcefully brought their weak and shaking suspect and forced his to his knees in front of the Inspector's desk. A subordinate began filming with a camera on a tripod. 

The Inspector asked Arthur questions having to do with the timeline of events, and many concerning the transfer of the data. He asked if Arthur knew that Rumak was armed, or if he knew of Rumak's criminal past. Sometimes Inspector Marchik would ask the same questions more than once, trying to catch his suspect in a lie. 

Arthur struggled to focus as the inspector kept probing with his questions, trying to unravel any lies. "You ran Mr. Liggett. If you are innocent, then why did you run?"

"I don't know..." Arthur shook his head in desperation. "I was scared. There was a noise outside, someone at the front door. Mr. Rumak told me to finish what I was doing. He left then I heard him and another man talking, it sounded casual, not angry at all so I finished copying the files." Arthur's pulse pounded as he remembered the moment. "Then there was gunfire; two or three shots. I didn't move or anything. I just stood and listened. Then Rumak came back; he took the discs and left me alone. I... I thought maybe I could get back to the train station and get out of the country." 

Then the Inspector took off his glasses and stared skeptically at the suspect. "You say you didn't know Rumak was hiring you for criminal activity, is there any evidence to back up your story? Ten thousand American dollars for one day's work doesn't sound so legitimate to me," 

Arthur thought desperately. "Mr. Neal, my boss helped me get this job and he didn't expect anything either." Arthur figured it was a longshot, but maybe Neal would help him out. "My wallet had the phone number in it." 

"Perhaps I will speak with this Mr. Neal." He gave an order to a subordinate who quickly came back with a copy of his contacts. 




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 02



The Inspector dialed the phone number but then had to wait for about a minute before someone answered. 

"This is Inspector Marchik of the National Police Force of Upper Danubia. I need to speak to one of your managers; a Mr. Neal, concerning a criminal investigation." 

He looked offended. "I do not understand miss... no I do not need to speak to a lawyer. I need to speak with Mr. Neal. This is concerning a former employee of his that is now in our custody." 

"Very well let me speak to him then." There was a pause. "Yes, Mr. Murphy I am an Inspector for the Danubian Police and... " He was interrupted. 

"Yes, but I need to interview Mr. Neal since he is the only one who can verify the suspect's claims. I don't think that I..." Again the Inspector was interrupted. 

"I see, then we have nothing further to discuss." The Inspector angrily hung up the phone. 

"It seems this Mr. Neal is not taking our phone calls, just his cursed lawyers. This does not help your case at all. The prosecutor will no doubt charge you as an accessory in the attempted homicide, theft, and perhaps more. If you can think of some information that will help us catch any associates you have or alert us to any other crimes you know about he might be more lenient." 

"Inspector," a distressed Arthur said. "I told you all I know; I don't have any criminal associates." 

The Inspector stood up. "Then it seems we are through here, are we not? At least until trial." Here Arthur was put into a jail cell to spend another sleepless night.

--------- 

Early the next morning two police officers came to retrieve him. He was handcuffed, pulled out of his cell completely naked, and marched down a long hallway on the fourth floor that had offices on either side. There were people all around, but after going two days without sleep or food and with his whole body sore from the previous day's abuse, Arthur staggered along and didn't think much about modesty.

Arthur was taken into a spacious office at the end of the hall and was forced to his knees in front of a young secretary at her desk. She glanced at him as though nothing unusual was happening, then spoke with one of the guards. In a perfectly ordinary manner the secretary picked up the telephone and made a brief call. Arthur thought she mentioned his name. 

A tall man in a business suit walked into the room. He briefly spoke to the secretary and then made some gesture to dismiss the two policemen standing guard. The man, who looked about thirty-five years old, turned his attention to the detainee on the floor in front of him. With his friendly expression Arthur was sure he wasn't a cop. 

"Arthur Liggett, I am Spokesman Ralkliv, I have your custody." 

His accent was so odd that it took a few seconds for Arthur to realize that the man was speaking English. 

When he took the handcuffs off Arthur remained on the floor almost too sore and tired to move. 

The man motioned to Arthur: "Get up now, come inside, have coffee, have food." Arthur managed to get off the floor and follow him into a smaller office with a large wooden desk, a cabinet, rows of shelves packed with books and framed certificates on the wall. 

The man poured a large glass of water, then his secretary entered the office set down a tray in front of him. The breakfast consisted of black coffee, biscuits and a hot bowl of something that looked similar to oatmeal. Then he left the room to allow his client time to eat. Arthur now realized how hungry and thirsty he had been. When Spokesman Ralkliv returned Arthur was feeling a bit more lucid. 

"You feel better now I see." Ralkliv pulled out a folder. "I am being... I mean I am your spokesman for the criminal." He shrugged. "My English is not good as it used to be, but I think we can get by. As I said, I am Spokesman Ralkliv." He paused, searching for words. "I will represent you in court." 

"Spokesman?" Arthur asked. "Does that mean you're my lawyer?" 

The Spokesman leaned back in his chair and smiled pleasantly. "More like... advocate. Arthur, you don't need lawyer. You admit entering illegally, you admit to taking data, and you were working with a known criminal. You will be sentenced. I will try making sentence better. Less suffering." 

Arthur was alarmed by the implications of what this spokesman had said. "You're... not going to say that in court? I... I mean, you would be admitting my guilt." 

"I try get you less suffering for crimes," Ralkliv calmly asserted, "less punishment." 

Arthur was horrified that this was his defense attorney. He would have given anything for a crooked American lawyer right then, this guy wasn't going to contest the facts for god's sake! 

Ralkliv opened a file and examined a few pages. "Arthur, before we go to the arraignment, I need to know what you know about this partner of yours and the break in. Maybe... I argue for better sentence if you tell... circumstances." 

Arthur repeated all the information he had told the Inspector and made the point that he had been unaware that his employer hired him for a crime. 

The spokesman calmly explained: "In Danubia ignorance is no excuse to break laws. Know, or not know... no matter. Sentence same. We try getting less punishment though." 

"Uh... Mr... uh... Spokesman Ralkliv", Arthur was almost afraid to ask. "What sort of a sentence will I be facing?" 

Ralkliv sat up straight and gestured with his left hand. "Arthur, our system of criminal justice is divided in two parts. First part is for capital crimes such as murder, armed robbery, and other serious offenses. If a criminal is convicted of a capital offense he is executed by firing squad." 

Ralkliv flipped over his right hand. "The second branch of our system is for less serious crimes such as theft or vandalism. Criminals found guilty in this system serve sentences. First task is to convince the prosecutor to try you in criminal court." 

Arthur hoped he didn't hear the spokesman correctly. "Spokesman...I...uh...do you mean...that I might be executed?" 

"Yes," Ralkliv said casually. "The charge of espionage is usually a capital crime, you may also be charged as... accessory in the shooting which may also be a capital offense." 

Ralkliv pointed an index finger upward. "However, I will argue that there is no evidence to show that you had prior knowledge of your employer's criminal activities and that there is no evidence to prove intent on your part to commit either of these crimes." 

"There are three other factors in your favor. You had no serious criminal record and you had no weapons at the time of arrest. Prosecutors may also be wary of executing an American for the damage it might do to international relations." Ralkliv shrugged. "We will just have to wait and see."

"If I can convince the arraignment panel to try you in criminal court you get maybe three or four years for break in, maybe five or ten years for theft of... data. Espionage might be fifteen or twenty years. Other charges maybe more." 

Arthur hoped he didn't hear that right. "Are you saying that I'm either going to be executed or put in prison for over twenty years?" 

"No, no prison. You stay as criminal, wear collar." 

"Wear a what?" 

He motioned to his neck. "Criminal wear collar to track position." 

Arthur started to ask more questions but he was cut off. "Arthur we... not want to be late, go in bathroom, clean up." He pointed to a door in the back. 

After cleaning up he found Spokesman Ralkliv at his desk putting files into his briefcase. "Arthur, the guards will come and then we take you to arraignment panel." 

When he asked what clothes he's supposed to wear, the Spokesman glanced at him. "Criminals no... um... do not wear clothes," then Ralkliv went back to organizing his papers. 

Incredulous, Arthur asked: "You let people walk around naked in public?" 

"Yes. Criminals naked, always."

Before all of that had a chance to sink in two officers arrived. True to his word Arthur was soon marched through a busy lobby wearing nothing but handcuffs. 

---------

Arthur faced a three-person arraignment panel that included two middle-aged women in robes and one older man. All three sat behind a tall desk and looked down at him. 

While a guard took off his handcuffs Spokesman Ralkliv told Arthur that the three officials would determine what charges he would face at trial. Once the panel was ready he turned to Arthur. 

"Stand in criminal stance, face panel, hands behind head, feet apart." Impatient with Arthur's hesitation he warned, "You do not want panel angry, hurry!" 

Arthur quickly moved in front of the panel. He folded his hands behind his head. The man on the panel issued an angry order and a big guard stepped forward with a hand on his police baton. Arthur looked to Ralkliv for help. Ralkliv motioned to his feet with a spreading gesture. Arthur remembered what Ralkliv had said and adjusted his stance with his feet set wide part. Arthur felt exposed and humiliated but the guard did back off. 

The official in the dark suit spoke first. He read a series of statements from a document in his hand before turning his attention to Spokesman Ralkliv. He would serve as both spokesman for his client and translator during the hearing. 

While standing in that humiliating posture Arthur had to answer a series of questions; most of which were identical to the ones he had been asked by the Inspector the day before. The panel only asked two unique questions: 1) Are you currently or have you ever been a covert agent for the US or other government? 2) Are you a member of an organized crime syndicate? 

The first question was ridiculous, Arthur thought. A spy who admits to being a spy every time he's asked, wouldn't be a very secret agent now would he? The second question had more merit. Arthur already admitted to working for Mr. Rumak, and it was clear from the panel's question that they considered Rumak to be a card-carrying member of the Russian mob. The amount of cash that Rumak paid for the one-day job also seemed far in excess for any legitimate business. Arthur could but hope that the prosecutor would require more than this circumstantial evidence to press charges. 

"No sir." Arthur answered to these final two questions. 

Then his spokesman and the three officials on the panel had a lengthy discussion. Even though Arthur didn't understand a word of this dialogue it was clear that Ralkliv was a gifted speaker in his native tongue. Spokesman Ralkliv and the woman on the right side of the panel talked for several minutes while the other two officials were mostly silent. Eventually the conversation ended and the woman on the right turned to Arthur and gave the decision of the arraignment panel. 

Spokesman Ralkliv, who was obviously pleased with himself, translated. "Arthur Liggett, the panel recommends you face charges of espionage, theft of property, and unlawful entry in criminal court." With their task complete the panel stood and made a gesture across their chests before leaving the room. 

Arthur was handcuffed and marched back up to his spokesman's office. After the police left Ralkliv explained the charges and upcoming trial. "Arthur you are very, very lucky; you just face three charges: espionage, theft, and unlawful entry in criminal court. You get no more than thirty-five years, could be much worse." 

Arthur felt like throwing up but he managed to smile. 

"Ah, you feel better now I see. Good," Ralkliv smiled. "Trial in two hours."

Arthur panicked. "T... Two Hours! How can you prepare a defense in two hours?"

"We are very efficient here," Ralkliv casually assured him. "I do it all the time; I have another trial this afternoon." Ralkliv smiled and put up an index finger. "Arthur, you need to know what to do at trial. First we go to court, you stay by me, next judge enters and defendant kneels. Place forehead to floor and you stay until I say get up. Then you stand on the platform in front Judge. You stand, like before, with legs apart, hands behind head. Always stand like that; always look at Judge. When Judge stands you kneel again." 

Arthur just sat there trying to keep up with all these heavily accented instructions. "Kneel?"

"Yes kneel," Ralkliv casually explained. "Head to floor, on knees."

Arthur's eyes went wide. "You can't be serious."

Ralkliv frowned. "Why can I not be serious? This is no time for joking Arthur; you are in major trouble."

Arthur shook his head and gestured frantically. "I mean... uh... you said the defendant has to kneel. I can't kneel... I mean, Americans don't do that and... and when can I put on some clothes?"

"Oh... oh now I understand. Arthur, I recognize you are going through a difficult time but you have a very simple choice to make." Ralkliv put up one finger. "You can do as I say, cooperate and live as a collared criminal," Ralkliv put up a second finger. "Or you will be executed by firing squad."

Arthur sat with his mouth open, trying to form a coherent response.

"Better to live than die, yes?" Ralkliv smiled. "I thought so. Where was I? Oh yes... the judge returns for ruling. When Judge returns you kneel on platform, when Judge says you stand in criminal stance. You hear sentence. Then you get collar put on neck." 

Spokesman Ralkliv had gotten up and was gathering some documents in his briefcase when his phone rang. After a short conversation he turned to Arthur and continued. 

"Oh... Where was I? The collar, after you have collar, you kneel before police officer... Then they switch you, then police give you back to my custody." He looked at the clock and picked up his briefcase. 

"Switch me with what?" 

"Switch." 

"These police switch me with someone else?" 

On his way out the door Spokesman Ralkliv shook his head. "You find out later, I'll be back to take you to trial soon. Here," Ralkliv threw a paper on the desk. "Why not read newspaper?"



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 03



Chapter 3: Calling Home 

Arthur really couldn't read the Danubian newspaper, but to pass the time before trial he started looking through the pictures. There were photographs of floods and fires as well as weather forecast graphics and comics like any other newspaper. But when Arthur found the front page it made him cringe, below the bold headline was a crime scene photo of the Tech-Center along with photographs of a policeman and the two suspects. The picture of Arthur had been taken after arrest, and Mr. Rumak's photo was obviously from before the gunfight. Arthur remembered the ambulance that left the crime scene; the policeman featured was probably the one that Rumak shot. There was nothing else he could understand from the article. 

Arthur picked up a different section of the newspaper. In this one he found several pictures having to do with the courts. There were some photographs of police officers and judges as well as several of naked people wearing collars on their necks. In one group picture, fifteen people dressed in white were cheerfully holding some kind of metal objects above their heads. 

Then Arthur turned to the last few pages of the section. There were capsules with what looked like names and descriptions of various criminals. Each item had a name at the top followed by age and a paragraph. Below each paragraph there were two photos. The picture on the left was a mug shot from the shoulders up. What Arthur found most peculiar about the mug shots were the anguished and distorted expressions of the subjects; in fact most of the pictured criminals even had tears running down their faces. The picture on the right, however, made clear why the criminal's faces were so torn up. It was a full-body view from behind, showing a mass of red and purple lines on the bottoms, thighs, and shoulders of the captives. 

"The switch!" Arthur suddenly felt sick. "Ralkliv didn't mean switch, he meant Switch! Those police are going to use a switch on me! It's going to be my picture in the paper next week!" 

No longer interested in the newspaper, Arthur stood up and started pacing. He briefly considered escape but the fourth floor of a police station isn't a great place to start. Arthur sat down and waited. 

Spokesman Ralkliv returned about forty minutes later. 

"Arthur, we have few minutes before you go to trial," Ralkliv spoke with an enthusiasm that made Arthur uneasy. "Is there something you want to know?" 

Arthur picked up the newspaper and pointed to the pictures of the beaten criminals. "Is this what's going to happen to me?" 

He nodded. "Yes definitely... right after you are sentenced at trial." 

Arthur excused himself to run into Ralkliv's bathroom and vomit. When Arthur returned he wanted to know one last thing. Picking up the front page he pointed to the large photo of the police officer. "Who is this?"

The spokesman's demeanor got more somber. "His name is Officer Detynik Andreis. He was shot three times, still in hospital. Not improving. Two kids, wife. Good man." 

Before Arthur could respond two court guards arrived to escort him to trial. 

The courthouse itself was more modern looking than the Roman style buildings that were common in the US. There were no columns or ornate friezes at the front; instead the exterior was covered in steel and glass. The interior of the courthouse was just as sleek and modern, with a polished black ceramic floor and an abstract metal sculpture of some fierce winged creature hanging above the entrance. The media had set up on both sides of the lobby. Cameras flashed and TV cameras focused on Arthur as he passed through the open courtroom doors. 

This was the largest courtroom Arthur had ever seen. If it weren't for the large wooden judge's bench and witness stands he would have mistaken the room for a theater or lecture hall. The seating was theater style with the floor sloping toward the front of the room. Five meters in front of the judge's bench was a raised platform that was about three meters wide and thirty centimeters high. 

Arthur was lead down to the right side of the witness stand to an area reserved for court officials. As the guard unlocked Arthur's handcuffs Spokesman Ralkliv pointed to the square platform. "That is the platform where you stand during trial. Kneel when judge enters and when judge leaves, all other time keep stand with legs apart and hands behind head. Always look at judge. Listen to me; I will tell you when to go to platform. Remember: defendants do not salute judge. You kneel, head to floor." 

Arthur could see that the courtroom was going to be filled to capacity; hundreds of spectators were already seated and the court's camera crews were getting ready for filming. After several minutes a court official opened the large wooden door at the back of the courtroom and a middle-aged woman in dark robes made her way to the bench. Danubians stood and saluted the judge. Arthur kneeled beside his spokesman. A few statements were read and then Arthur heard the judge speak his name.

Spokesman Ralkliv tapped him on the back. "Arthur get on the platform and stand in prisoner stance unless judge stands. Kneel if judge stands up. Always look at the judge!" 

The judge ordered Arthur to take his position at the center of the platform. He felt icy cold even with the spotlights focused on him. The camera crew was filming, and the video was playing live on a large screen above the judge. Standing naked in a crowded courtroom seemed too strange and to be real; just in case it was all a horrible dream, Arthur bit his tongue and urged himself to wake up soon. 

Then the trial began. The prosecution called a long series of witnesses, including some of the police who had been at the crime scene, and Inspector Marchik. There were surveillance videos, documents, and photographs submitted as evidence. The prosecutor asked Arthur to identify the disc that he had transferred the data to, and to confirm that he had been hired by Mr. Rumak to acquire the data. After about sixty minutes the prosecutor rested and the judge retired to chambers. 

During break Spokesman Ralkliv enthusiastically told Arthur that he would present the defense's case next. It seemed that his spokesman loved to be in front of the cameras and this high profile case gave him the attention he craved. Although Spokesman Ralkliv would not be contesting any of the prosecutor's evidence he would try to reduce the length and severity of the sentence. 

Spokesman Ralkliv presented Arthur's defense with great energy. With equal time spent presenting his arguments to the judge and giving dramatic oration for the television cameras, Ralkliv used his charisma to maximum effect. By the time it was over, Arthur wondered if this was a defense or a sermon. Spokesman Ralkliv had only mentioned Arthur's name once in the whole speech, and hadn't presented any evidence at all. But the time to worry about that was over. The judge looked to Arthur and a court official translated. 

"Mr. Liggett, before the court gives its ruling, do you have anything to say?" 

Arthur looked at his own image on the video screen: he stood naked on the platform, white as a ghost. It felt so unreal... his pulse thumped in his ears; the spotlights nearly blinded.

"Mr. Liggett!" The judge's eyes flashed anger: "Do you wish to speak before the sentence is read?"

"Um..." Arthur swallowed hard and took a breath. "No Your Honor." 

"Very well, Arthur Liggett." The Judge leaned forward, leveling an icy stare. "This court is ready to pronounce the verdict." 

"On the first charge of espionage this court finds you guilty." 

"On the second charge of unlawful entry this court also finds you guilty."

"On the third charge of theft of property this court finds you guilty." 

The judge then laid out the particular nature of the sentence. 

"Arthur Liggett you will wear the criminal's collar for a period of thirty years. During this time unless directed by the Ministry of Justice you will remain within the Rika Chorna Collar Zone at all times." 

"For the extent of the sentence you are hereby prohibited from covering any part of your body with clothing not sanctioned by the Ministry of Justice." 

"Finally, for the duration of the sentence you will receive four formal judicial punishments per year, with the first to be administered immediately upon the conclusion of this trial. You are ordered to report to the Police Headquarters on the ninth day of August for your second punishment, and every three months thereafter until such time as you have completed your full sentence." 

"Mr. Liggett, do you understand the crimes you have been convicted of and the details of the sentence?" 

Time seemed to slow and Arthur's mouth went dry. The fast thumping of his own pulse in his ears eclipsed all sound.

"Mr. Liggett, you will answer the court! Do you understand the details of the sentence?"

"Yes... Yes Your Honor." 

Spokesman Ralkliv told Arthur to come to the side of the Judge's bench; then a very scary looking machine was wheeled in. 

"This is collar clamping machine," Ralkliv explained. "Stick neck in." 

Arthur didn't like the sound of that at all, but reluctantly he followed the instructions of the technician who was operating the machine. When the jaws of the device clamped around Arthur's neck he braced himself for pain but all he felt was a quick vibration then the clamp was removed. He now had a cold metal collar around his neck. Arthur felt the collar's parallel groves and central band; there was also a loop that extended out one side of the collar, but he didn't want to imagine what its purpose was. 

While Arthur was getting his collar put on, the courtroom was readied for the punishment phase of the trial. With the slight buzz of electric motors and the hiss of hydraulic pistons the square platform slid down to floor level. Then the metal panels on top the platform opened and folded to the sides. A sturdy steel framed table rose up from the floor. Finally the platform's metal floor panels closed tight around the base. Rika Chornans, as they proudly proclaim, are much more modern than their western counterparts in Danube City. 

The mechanical elegance of the device was lost on Arthur though. In a few minutes he would be strapped down to that table and beaten. He looked to his Spokesman. 

"Arthur," Ralkliv said. "You must kneel in front of police officer and kiss shoes." 

Arthur's eyes went wide: "What?"

Ralkliv looked as if begging forgiveness of the judge and then he stepped close to his client and whispered: "Arthur if you don't want to be executed do what I say, you must kneel before the officer and kiss the toe of each shoe." 

Arthur closed his eyes briefly and somehow found the strength to approach the policewoman. With the whole courtroom watching he got down on hands and knees, stretched forward and put his lips to the toe of her left shoe and then her right. There was a tap on his left shoulder then. Now she had custody. 

The policewoman and her partner looked far too eager for Arthur's comfort. They rapidly fastened him down securely to the table. Arthur's feet were firmly fixed to the floor. The wide strap crossing his lower back pulled his stomach tight against the cold metal platform. His arms were stretched forward, pulled tight and strapped down. The more he tried to move the worse it felt; other than his head, feet and hands he could barely move an inch in any direction.

Bright spotlights were focused on him from four different angles. A cameraman adjusted the tripod of the TV camera and then concentrated on getting a close up. A video projection screen showed the scene in real time. Arthur glanced at his image; had he ever looked so pale?

Officer Stashak had Criminal # 88588 strapped down, bent over with his legs apart, completely helpless and vulnerable. Now she would make him pay for what he had done. Her partner was struggling for his life in the hospital. Officer Andreis and his family suffered because of this American spy and his partner. Even though his charismatic spokesman had gotten him out of the death sentence he deserved, she would do her best to punish him. She turned to her supervisor; he was there to make sure she didn't lose control during this emotional situation. He nodded and she drew the leather wrapped switch from a loop on her belt and stepped behind Criminal # 88588. 

The room got quiet then, no one even whispered. The angry policewoman stood behind him off to his left side. The front several rows of witnesses wore blue: the police. Then Arthur felt it, a tap against the upper curve on the left side of his bottom; then she drew back, there was a whistle as the switch whipped down, and then the audible impact as the switch snapped against bare skin. Arthur's mouth opened, his fists tightened and he involuntarily took a quick breath and groaned. The pain climbed in intensity for several seconds, a burning line of pain. Then just as the pain started to subside, there was another tap below the first one. 

Officer Stashak watched Criminal # 88588 carefully. She didn't want anger to make her lose control... she would focus and be cold and calculating. She swung again and struck just below the first. Flesh bounced from the impact as the supple switch flexed around the contours of his buttock. Criminal # 88588 flinched and closed his eyes tight, trying to deal with mounting pain. Stashak rapidly hit three more times across the criminal's left side. His back stiffened and he pulled hard against the restraints. Officer Stashak smiled and cruelly admired her work. She felt the hot swelling flesh, dragging fingertips across the five parallel ridges.

Arthur tried hard to stay silent; he was desperate to keep at least some dignity. The cruel Danubians that witnessed his torture laughed at him. Arthur hated them. He focused on defying them. He willed himself to remain still and quiet as the officer struck five more times.

Criminal # 88588 was quietly defying her but Stashak knew he had 40 more hard strokes of her switch to endure. It was inevitable that he would break, but she wanted it sooner rather than later. She tapped and then struck full force five more times working her way down the back of his left thigh. Criminal # 88588 shook from the pain, when he finally did breathe it came in a desperate gasp for air. Stashak decided to switch sides, laying down several backhand strikes across the right half of his bottom. She smiled at her partner as Criminal number 88588 cried out. Everyone in the courtroom heard it.

From that point on every time the switch landed he cried out loudly to the amusement of the police in attendance. At one point Spokesman Ralkliv had Officer Stashak redirect the blows of her switch to his client's thighs and then his shoulders, but he could do nothing about the severity of the policewoman's blows or the agonizingly slow pace of the punishment. 

Spokesman Ralkliv raised his hand after he counted the fiftieth stroke. The officers released the straps that held down his client and then they dragged his beaten body to be presented to the Judge. The Judge certified the punishment, and then the spokesman turned to his client. "Arthur kneel and kiss the officer's shoes."

Sweat and tears dripped onto the floor as Arthur leaned forward to kiss each of the policewoman's polished black shoes.

"Arthur," Ralkliv said. "You must thank her for punishing you."

All resistance was gone from Arthur; he would have agreed to just about anything at that point. On his hands and knees Arthur looked the smug Officer Stashak in the face and thanked her for the beating. She tapped his shoulder, saluted the judge and left with her partner.

After regaining custody Spokesman Ralkliv took his client through the remaining indignities of the post punishment photography and the walk past the media. He stopped in the lobby and made a brief statement to the reporters before he and Criminal #88588 traveled back to his office.

Ralkliv walked slowly matching the pace of his newest client; he felt uneasy about this American. A foreigner would be given some leeway but he needed to adapt quickly and get used to a great many changes. Firstly, a criminal, especially a foreign criminal, must understand what it means to be a collared criminal. Ralkliv thought it was best to get started early.

"Criminal # 88588, there is something we must discuss."

"Criminal # 88588 do you hear me?" Ralkliv raised his voice. "Arthur!"

The criminal flinched, stopped, and blinked his red swollen eyes rapidly, staring confused.

Ralkliv's tone softened. "That is your name now. You are no longer Arthur Liggett; criminals are referred to by serial number. Criminal # 88588, do you understand me?"

The criminal barely nodded.

"Do not nod, you will say 'yes sir' or 'yes spokesman'. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir." Arthur's mouth was so dry his words came in a hoarse rasp.

"Very good, now let's move along so we can get you back to my office; there you can rest." As Ralkliv led his new client along toward the trolley stop he thought of something else that was bothering him. 

"Criminal number 88588, I understand this is all very painful and terrifying but next time you can't be using that kind of bad language during the punishment; it is not allowed." Ralkliv sighed at his client's blank stare and said more to himself: "I just hope they don't translate it for television."

Ralkliv frowned; his client's mind seemed to have drifted off. "In fact, you shouldn't use such language at all. Is that clear? Criminal number 88588, do you understand me?"

Ralkliv grasped his client's upper arm to hopefully gain his attention. "Criminal number 88588, do you hear me?"

Arthur's eyes swam; nothing seemed real but the pain. "Yes sir." Arthur's voice was just a broken whisper between quick breaths. Completely defeated, Arthur would have agreed to just about anything. Shuffling along, burning agony with every step, he felt everyone on the street staring at his naked body. The collar, cold and heavy against his skin, was the starkest proof that to these people he was no longer a human being but an animal. With his freedom lost and thoroughly humiliated in ways he never imagined Arthur followed the tall and energetic man, the lawyer named Ralkliv.

--------- 

Arthur had been on the recovery table for over an hour before the pain receded enough to think clearly. Just over two days ago he had left the US looking to cash in on a terrific opportunity. Arthur thought about the thirty-year sentence. He'd be fifty-three when they let him leave. What would it be like going back home in thirty years, would anyone be waiting? 

His father had died six years earlier from cancer, and Arthur had not been very close to his mother since. It had hardly been two months after her husband was placed in the grave that she started dating her boss from work. Now that they were married she didn't call much anymore, and that was fine with Arthur since all she wanted to talk about was her new family. He doubted his mother would want to mention her criminal son to her new friends anyway. 

Arthur's kid sister Theresa, or Tee as everyone called her was just entering college. They shared the same weird sense of humor and rarely talked about anything serious. What really used to drive their parents nuts was their practical jokes. He got her in so much trouble but she always wanted in on his plans regardless. 

Arthur couldn't help but grin when he thought of how good their last hoax was. For three nights in a row they had sneaked over to the city park with a spool of fishing line, a strobe light, a weather balloon, and a tank of helium. After getting the balloon inflated and the strobe light inside there floated a strange flashing orb five hundred feet above the town. 




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 03



It even surprised them how well it worked. It was the coolest thing ever when a TV news reporter came from the New Orleans station to investigate the UFO sightings in the little town. Tee was completely fearless: she told that reporter with a straight face how she thought she had been abducted by space aliens. Afterwards Arthur was glad he could go back to his college dorm room; Tee was sixteen then so she still lived with her mom and stepfather. Their mother had been furious. She wasn't fooled for a second; this joke was not the first by any means. 

Arthur figured his girlfriend Charlotte had already moved on. She was fun to play around with but nothing more, and his friends were mostly acquaintances really. Arthur didn't want to tell any of them about his current predicament anyway. Would they even miss me? Would anybody miss me? Then an urgent thought occurred. With clenched teeth and raw determination he stood up. The pain from just standing was immense but he forced himself to hobble into his spokesman's office. 

Spokesman Ralkliv was filling out some paperwork when he saw Arthur. Criminal # 88588 was obviously in terrible shape and shouldn't be up for another hour or more. "Arthur, you rest more; don't walk around yet." 

Arthur quickly explained: "Spokesman, I... uh... I want to make a phone call to the United States. I need to speak to my sister to make some arrangements. It's urgent, you see I left my dog with a kennel and I just paid for a week. My truck is also parked in a lot at the airport and it's just permitted for a week. My landlady doesn't know what happened to me, and I have items inside that I want removed." 

He nodded. "You need talk to family, tell of trial, ask forgive, of course." 

Close enough, Arthur thought. The spokesman got out his records and looked up her phone number. 

The phone rang nine times before she picked up, but it was really early in the morning there. 

A sleepy voice answered. "This better be important." 

"You sleep too much anyway, Tee. I think you're part cat or something." 

"Arthur... Shit! Mom called last night freaking out, saying that some diplomat called her and said you were arrested in Europe." 

"She was right, I was arrested in Upper Danubia yesterday; I just got back from trial today." 

"But I didn't even know you were in Europe, mom called your landlady. And she hadn't seen you in three days. Arthur why did you go to Europe without telling anyone?" 

"I had to leave on business Monday night; I was going to call you from Germany but...I never had the chance." 

"Why did they arrest you?" 

"The man who hired me for a job was involved in a theft. I didn't know about it until it was too late though. I was arrested in Upper Danubia, that's in Eastern Europe. They think I'm a spy... charged me with espionage." 

"What?" Tee stammered. "A spy... that's stupid... you're not a spy... holy shit. What are they gonna do to you, are you in jail?" 

"No... Um... I'm on a sort of parole or work release type thing, but I haven't got time to explain all of this right now; I'll write you later on to explain everything. Tee, there's some things that I need you to do for me. Grab a pencil and paper." 

"Go to the airport... um... it's... um lot 12 and get my truck; there's a Hide a Key under the right rear fender. You can have it, it's paid off." 

"Arthur, you're going to..." 

"Tee," Arthur said harsher than he wanted to. "I don't have the time to explain, just please listen." 

"Then you need to go to my landlady Mrs. Schmidt, she lives downstairs, and tell her what happened. Have her let you into my apartment. There's a box in the freezer with some cash in it; give the landlady five hundred dollars for her expenses, you keep the rest. I have a new computer and a camera that I also want you to have, but just give the rest of my junk to the landlady." 

"Okay." 

"You now have a dog by the way; his name... his name is... Lucky. You need to pick him up at the kennel on Catalpa Street within two days, got it? He's got a bed and some food and toys at my place you might want to pick up." 

"Arthur, you sound like you may not be back for a long time." 

The next sentence was hard to say. "Tee, I was sentenced to thirty years at trial this morning." 

"Thirty years..." She took a quick breath. "Oh God Arthur... but you didn't know it was illegal." 

"That didn't matter to the judge. Do those things I asked, Tee. I've got to get off the phone now." 

"All... alright Arthur" 

He finished up in the odd way they had said their goodbyes since grade school. 

"Hate you Tee." 

He could tell she was trying not to cry. "Hate you Arthur." 

That was more difficult than he thought it would be; the sentence seemed real and final now. Arthur handed the phone back. "Spokesman, I want to write a letter to my sister; can I borrow some writing supplies?" 

"Yes you can write later. Now we talk about future." Counting with his fingers: "You have no job, no home, you don't speak Danubian. You will stay with me tonight, tomorrow I will find you a job, and get you in a class."

Arthur thought of something. "Spokesman... um... Ralkliv. I forgot to tell my sister about my bank account but I can arrange payment for your services, for representing me in court."

Ralkliv looked offended. "There will be no such payment. Criminal number 88588 I am your Spokesman! Spokespersons do not work for their clients. I am in charge of you. You do not hire me."

Arthur started to doubt the realness of his current situation all over again. His eyes wandered from Ralkliv to the tile floor, the white textured ceiling and the fourth floor window. He stepped close and touched the glass, it felt smooth and warm and solid, as glass should. Outside a bird flew past and it wasn't an ostrich or a penguin, just an ordinary regular bird. Everything looked real and felt real but...this was just too bizarre. After all, he had walked naked through the middle of a strange city, suffered a televised beating in a courtroom, and currently had a big metal collar fastened around his neck. Now he just witnessed a lawyer turning down money! Arthur lost his balance and staggered into the wall. 

Ralkliv got up in a hurry and grabbed his client's arm to steady him. "Arthur, when did you sleep last?" 

"I... uh" Arthur spoke at the man who might or might not be imaginary. "I guess I... left for work Monday morning, so..."

"This is Wednesday afternoon," Ralkliv walked his newest client to a back room where it was quiet and dark and a cot was set up. "Go lie down, I think I'm going to call a doctor to come by and look you over. Just try and get some rest." 



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 04



Chapter 4: Meeting the Tourists

Arthur smiled in spite of himself. Even though he was expected to do the chores; there was a sense of accomplishment in fixing up his host's place. His new home was still... rustic but after a couple weeks of work the yard was mostly cleared of junk, the lawn was mowed, and the house would be ready for painting by the weekend.

Arthur decided he had done enough chores for the day. He put his ladder and tools safely on the ground and entered through the back porch of the worn out dingy white house. He washed up in his host's tiny bathroom, and then walked down the hallway to his own bedroom. Almost square, fourteen feet across, with dark wood paneling, one north-facing window with actual shutters on the outside and curling green linoleum on the floor; his room was barely furnished. A very small bed was along the east wall. It was once a child's but now it was Arthur's to use; not too uncomfortable, though his feet did hang off the end at night. A sturdy wooden chair and a small desk covered in crayon and pencil marks faced the window, otherwise his room was unfurnished

He opened the largest desk drawer and removed a notebook and pen. Arthur turned it to a blank page. Slumping in the chair, he set his elbows on the armrests and his forehead in his left palm. He could feel the hated collar under his chin and see his naked lap below. The vulnerable state they kept him in was supposed to be a constant reminder of his low social status and the disgrace of his crimes. He was dishonored... so they often said.

It was a struggle to not despair but he pushed it away. Arthur Liggett wouldn't let himself cry. He was too stubborn, too proud; but sometimes though, just to maintain his sanity he needed to tell someone what he was going through.

Arthur stared apprehensively at the blank page for a while and then wrote his sister's name at the top.

---------

Tee,

I've spent three weeks in this damned weird place but it sure feels longer. I'm not allowed to wear any clothes except the work-boots and gloves I was issued, and those may only be used at work. This cold metal collar that's been clamped on my neck is something that I don't think I'll ever get used to. Back in college I helped wildlife biologists put tracking collars on bears in the national forest. Sometimes I imagine those bears rolling on the ground laughing their asses off. But I realize that I'm not just an animal to be tracked, I'm also cheap labor. Criminals here are used in the jobs that are too difficult, too dirty, or too dangerous for free citizens. The boots and gloves are issued for the protection of government property. That's right, I'm property now.

I'll tell you a little about what's been going on in my life these past three weeks. The morning after my trial I woke up in a tiny spare bedroom at my spokesman's home. Straight out of a dream right into the nightmare; I jumped up in a panic, stumbled into a wall and screamed out in pain before I realized where I was. Spokesman Ralkliv came running into the room and flipped on the light. He's a decent sort, I guess, for a Danubian; he wasn't even angry with me for waking his family up, just asked me if I was alright. I was anything but alright; it was about four AM, I didn't go back to sleep.

The morning after a switching is brutal. Every movement hurts; it stings and aches. I hobbled into the bathroom and turned my back to the mirror. It was shocking actually... I've never seen such a large bruised area; my skin had turned purple with many raised crimson lines crisscrossing over the top. It was mostly on my butt and the backs of my thighs though there was what looked like eight or nine lines across my upper back. The punished skin was still badly swollen but no longer hot to the touch.

After breakfast, Spokesman Ralkliv made me go outside like that; down the busy sidewalk, on a bus packed with commuters, all over the damned city. It hurt like hell but I tried to act like it didn't bother me. Naked, collared, and beaten; I was horribly embarrassed though most people didn't seem to pay much attention really.

Ralkliv kept me busy that first day. I had to go through a lot of paper signing, and more fingerprinting, medical testing and interviews with various people: a psychiatrist, a detective, even a stupid TV reporter. All that walking around did me some good though, worked out a lot of the soreness. Toward the end of the day Ralkliv took me across town and introduced me to my new boss.

Since I didn't know the language my spokesman decided to set me up with a job doing some manual labor that didn't require a lot of communication. I work for a stonemason who has a contract to build a brick walkway from the Plaza to the War Memorial. I had some experience with this kind of work back in the US so I don't require much instruction, which is good because the boss doesn't speak any English.

I had to stay in my spokesman's house for most of the first week, maybe so he could keep a close watch on me (to make sure I didn't kill myself or try to escape), or perhaps he was having a hard time finding anyone willing to house me.

After five days my spokesman told me to move to my employer Mr. Jakt's house, so I picked up my notebook and pen (my only possessions) and walked to my new home. By Danubian standards his place was a mess: the lawn was high with un-mowed grass and weeds, boards were missing from the picket fence, and paint was peeling off the house. Something pleased me about seeing this disorder though, perhaps because the rest of my life is now so structured.

Mr. Jakt is an older man who had apparently lived alone for years. His wife's long dead and he has no living children. He must be well past retirement age but just doesn't want to quit working, probably doesn't want to feel old and useless. Although I don't understand much that he says, the old man likes to tell me stories. He usually spends some time after supper gesturing wildly, laughing, and describing things I could only guess at; though it is reassuring to hear some laughter for a change in this overly serious country.

Spokesman Ralkliv got me enrolled in an emersion style Danubian language class three days after trial. The class had been going on for over a week already so I had to catch up quickly. There are eleven young foreign students in the class, as well as a couple older businessmen. I was the only English speaker and the only one wearing a collar though. From the way they looked at me I suppose I must be a big novelty.

My first week in class I learned the essential phrases for a Danubian criminal: "Yes officer", "No officer", "I don't understand officer", and those peculiar phrases that spokespersons and criminals exchange about a path. I also know the alphabet, numbers 0-99, and of course my name: # 88588. For work, I learned the Danubian words for the tools and supplies used.

By the second week I was finally able to sit down in a chair without much discomfort, which was good- I was real damned tired of standing in class by that point! I'm learning quickly though, after only eleven lessons I can now have some pretty compelling conversations with other students about the time of day, trolley schedules, and bus stops.

The number one lesson outside of class however, is to fear the police. They're hostile toward criminals in general, but they hate me. They blame me for the shooting. It doesn't matter to them that I didn't take part in that gunfight. I suppose since my 'partner' is dead they have to hold me responsible for their friend's injuries.

Just about every day after work a group of them come to humiliate me. They have all the paths covered and I know that any way I walk the result will be the same. When I get within ten feet the cop calls out my number. When I turn toward them they always do seem to have that same cruel smile.

It begins with that horrible kneeling position. They take sadistic pleasure in leaving me exposed to passing foot traffic. They make me kneel right out on the sidewalk, with my forehead on the ground and my knees apart while they stand around and talk about whatever interests them. Countless people walk past and though my muscles ache I try to remain still because I know they'll beat me if I move out of position. They usually finish up by having me thank them for 'discipline' or some shit like that; and before letting me go these cops always tell me how they're looking forward to seeing me the next day.

The Friday of my third week started relatively well; at my language class in the morning I could tell that I was pulling ahead of the crowd, probably none of the others were motivated like I was. Then later at work my boss let me off an hour and a half early since we ran out of stain for the mortar. That meant that I could be out of the city center before the cops came looking for me. It felt so good to escape them. I cautiously walked the back streets and alleyways that kept me away from their usual patrols. Eventually, I stopped on a narrow street with a few shops on the left and a diner on the right.

Behind me I heard a girl speaking in English. "You ask him."

Another girl says: "But he's naked!"

"I don't care... we're fucking lost, we have to ask somebody."

"I can't," the second girl whispers loudly. "I can't pronounce that!"

"Look," said the first. "Here... just read it."

I turn around to see two college age girls; both wore backpacks and were dressed in shorts and tee shirts. They looked tired; I thought they had probably been wandering lost all day with their crappy tourist maps to guide them. I could tell by their expressions they were not used to seeing criminals yet. Then the taller girl, whose face had turned bright red, tried to translate from her English to Danubian dictionary. Deciding on a Danubian phrase she looked at me anxiously and said: 'Uh... Valugsk Yorun...unk Astik...' (Something that loosely translated to: "my fish is gone, where is the bed?)."

I felt a bit ornery right about then so I shrugged my shoulders and replied in English: "I'm real sorry about the loss of your fish but I honestly don't know where your bed is."

The girls were so stunned to hear me speak English in an American accent that they just stood there for a couple seconds with their mouths open.

"But... You're an American, what the Fuck!" The blond cackled, as her friend held her hand over her mouth in quiet shock.

"Guilty as charged." I nodded. "Seriously guilty." 

"What are you doing here, like that?" She was trying to stop laughing. 

"I got arrested." Gesturing to my unclothed state: "This is what they do to people who break their laws. You two look lost, maybe I can help you find your fish." 

"Fish?"

"You said: 'Valugsk yorun...unk Astik...' which in Danubian means: 'Fish lost, where is bed?"

The taller girl starts laughing again. "Oh shit! What have I been telling people, I should throw this fucking dictionary in the trash!"

"Well, it's actually our hotel that we have been searching for what seems like forever. It's called the Vladiserikt or something." The dark haired friend talked to me while averting her eyes.

I glanced at the map. I recognized the place; it was across the City Plaza and to the north east of the University. Not wanting the rare opportunity to talk to other Americans to pass; I told the girls that I had been alone in this foreign country for three weeks, and it would be nice to talk to some normal people again. I offered to treat them to lunch at the nearby diner and escort them to their hotel afterwards. They agreed, so we made our way over to the patio. I had the waiter ready a table overlooking the street and copy down my number to arrange payment.

I put out my hand to greet them. "My name's Arthur. The baked fish is good, by the way."

"I'm Samantha." The slim blond studied the incomprehensible menu. "I'm a vegetarian so... uh... I'll just get a salad."

I glanced at her dark haired friend, who still seemed very nervous. "I'm Laura... uh the baked fish sounds good but we can pay."

"My treat, I insist." I gave the waiter the order, and then turned to my dinner guests. "So, you haven't been here very long?"

"We just got here with my family, yesterday." Samantha's kept staring at my neck. "We're on a tour through Europe, and we thought we could ditch the folks for a day and see the city by ourselves. I've never seen anything like it."

"It's real damn weird to see people walking around naked in the middle of a city, isn't it? It was a big shock for me too at first," I shrugged. "After a while you get used to it. Danubians are so strange like that; being seen naked doesn't bother them a bit." I pointed to my collar. "I don't suppose you know what this is all about?" They shook their heads. 

"Well... um... before the food arrives let's just get it out of the way. The short version is that I took a high-paying job from a shady character. Three weeks ago I was arrested, convicted and sentenced. In this country you won't find any jails but you're going to see criminals walking around out in the open, working, going to school or whatever." I tapped the collar. "Criminals wear these tracking collars though, so they can't leave the city, and just like any other criminal I'm not allowed to wear any clothes at all."

"You're a criminal?" Laura's eyes got real big. "We're not going to get in trouble talking to you are we, you're not escaped or anything?"

Not getting through to them the first time I try again. "I am a convicted criminal, but I'm allowed to go anywhere within the city during my free time. I can talk to people, make small purchases, or do whatever else I want within reason."

"Uh..." Samantha stammered. "You... you're not a... a murderer?"

I smiled sheepishly. "No... they caught me stealing computer files. I was convicted of... uh... spying." It sounded so stupid to say that out loud.

Samantha's eyes lit up with interest: "You're a spy? No way!"

"No kidding... but it's really not what you think... I just did something I shouldn't have." I tried to smile. "These days I'm more of a bricklayer."

Laura fidgeted nervously. "This place... is so... fucking... weird! I can't believe it... I would Die if they made me walk around naked."

"God, me too!" Samantha exclaimed. "And that collar, how do you stand it?"

"Uh... well..." I stammered.

Samantha took an urgent breath. "Wait!" She whispered entirely too loud to her friend: "My dad said that they beat prisoners here." Samantha blushed. She must have seen that I didn't particularly want to talk about that.

I'm still pretty embarrassed about the whole situation but I reluctantly decided to just tell the truth and move on. "Yeah." I said. "Danubians are big believers in corporal punishment. Criminals are beaten by the police. You're strapped down to a platform and whipped fifty times with a switch. Let me tell you, it's one hell of a deterrent."

"Shit!" Samantha exclaimed.

"My thoughts exactly!" I grinned at their shocked expressions. "It's no big surprise that the crime rate's so low here; I bet you could leave that purse of yours on the side of the street all day and no one would steal it. They don't lie here either; it's some kind of religious thing that's been taken to the extreme. Lying to a public official would get you a uniform like mine, and an invitation to stay here for a year. Another thing, they don't have much of a drug problem either, I hear that the sentences are pretty harsh for even simple possession."

Samantha's face lost all color. "Oh shit, did you have any of those Skittles left Laura?"

Laura looked up thinking. "Fuck...I think so...but they're safe back in the hotel room in my bag. We can get rid..."

Samantha interrupted: "But you had some last night, in your jeans!"

"No, that was Friday night." Laura insisted. "Remember, you had a bag stuffed down in your smokes last night and you saw that cop and you almost threw it away by..."

I said quietly: "Skittles?" Then it dawned on me what they meant. Not Skittles the candy, Skittles meaning ecstasy! For a few seconds I just sat there in disbelief as Samantha and Laura had a loud argument about their highly illegal drugs right the middle of the damned city!

"Stop talking!" I interrupted, and then I lowered my voice to an urgent whisper: "Don't tell me about your 'Skittles', I'm a fucking criminal! If the police find out I know about another crime..." I shook my head. "I'm in enough trouble already."

I leaned back and took a deep breath to try to calm down. Of all the people in this city I had to meet these two drug users. They didn't seem presently high but if they got picked up by the police, or their drugs were found at the hotel I knew that my name could come up. It wouldn't take Sherlock Holmes to find a criminal named 'Arthur' in Rika Chorna. I decided my best option was to remain calm, finish lunch, and then escort the girls quickly to their hotel.

"Sorry for yelling but you've got to understand that you can't even talk about stuff like that here. If someone overheard." I glanced around at the people seated at the other tables. "You could be in some serious shit."

Samantha was startled by my outburst. "Okay, I think this country scares me now."

"As it should; so," I asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject. "Where are you two from anyway?"

"San Diego," Samantha shrugged, "well a suburb really, me and Laura went to the same high school together. And when Dad said he was making me go Europe with him and mom I made sure Laura came too. I mean I'm 18 and I don't want to hang out with sucky old people all the time. So I just said to dad: 'if you're making me go on this stupid trip then I'm bringing a friend.' He argued a while but he finally gave in just like I knew he would." With an exasperated sigh she exclaimed. "My life really sucks."

It was shocking to hear the plight of these San Diego teens, being forced to go on European vacations against their will. Where's Amnesty International when you need them?

During lunch, I mostly sat and listened. Apparently all I had to do was get them started. They complained about their parents, inadequate allowances, their clothes, how little luggage they could bring, and how stupid this trip was, as well as a lot of other things that they hated about various subjects.

After hearing their long list of grievances against the world, I was impressed. Most people, I thought, wouldn't have had the confidence to air their complaints to a stranger who obviously had so little.

We finished lunch and I lead them off toward their hotel. As much as I now wanted to abandon these two brats, I couldn't do that. Besides, I thought if the police caught them with their drugs, there was a small chance that they would appreciate my assistance enough to keep my name out of it. So I decided to use the same back streets as long as I could to avoid the police.

Once these girls started talking they just didn't stop. I lead them down an old cobblestone street that divided two residential neighborhoods and then through a city park. We walked between the ancient oaks in the quiet city park and then across an arched stone bridge before returning to the cobblestone road. Meanwhile the girls seemed to have snide remarks about the hair or clothing of every local they saw. Men, women, and children; no one was safe. It was good that the Danubians on the street couldn't understand English.

I was eventually forced to take a right turn onto the crowded street that lead to their hotel. There were a variety of venders and open-air shops catering to tourists along this stretch. When we passed a shop selling handmade shoes Samantha had to have a look. Shoes were a common topic of conversation. After walking all day Samantha thought her shoes were chaffing her ankle a bit and apparently Laura's were not as fashionable as she wanted either. Neither of them seemed bothered by taking a person who wasn't allowed to wear shoes at all, to a shoe store. So while I found some shaded concrete to stand on, they took their good sweet time trying on shoes. It must have been half an hour later when they finished shopping and we could once again continue walking toward their hotel.




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 04



After walking up the street a bit, Samantha complained about how hard it was to carry all the shopping bags they had. Then she asked: "Arthur would you carry our bags?" Being a criminal I had to comply. The hotel was at least within sight about half a kilometer ahead. With bags in each hand I marched on, eager to be rid of those two.

As we got closer, I could see a disturbance up ahead, near the hotel. A bus had stalled across the trolley line and a crowd of tourists was watching a wrecker hook up to their stranded bus. They waited for another bus to pick them up outside the hotel. What was most worrying was that a group of Danubian police had taken charge of the scene. With the girls' hotel straight ahead I couldn't avoid walking right through the crowd. Moving quickly, I hoped to get into the hotel unnoticed.

Before I could get even to the sidewalk, I heard a policewoman order me to stop. The two girls walked right on by as I stopped and turned toward the officer. My heart sank when I recognized her as one of the cops who likes to harass me after work. In what has become a conditioned response I quickly placed the shopping bags on the sidewalk and kneeled down as the officer approached.

I could see out of the corner of my eye the crowd of tourists had all turned in my direction. There was a flash; someone in the crowd was taking pictures. This seemed to amuse the officer, who had her switch out and posed by me for several photographs. "This is what happens to spies here," she kept saying in English. This cop's English has improved significantly in the last three weeks; I think the bitch is probably taking English classes just to insult me better.

After what seemed like an eternity the wretched tourists loaded up onto a new bus and left. About this time the policewoman noticed my two companions who were staring wide-eyed at the scene before them. In English she says "This your girlfriends?" she gestures toward the two. "Now they see you dishonored."

In Danubian she said what I believed to be: "Criminal # 88588 tell your girlfriends what disgraceful trash you are!" And then something about crimes and trial. Though I didn't understand every word I knew from previous encounters that she wanted me to tell these "girlfriends" not only of the crimes I was convicted of but also about the shooting. I could see a couple pairs of feet to my left, assuming those belonged to the girls I translated.

"The officer ordered me to tell you two the circumstances of my arrest. My employer and I broke into an office to steal data and he shot a Danubian police officer while trying to escape. The officer survived but he has not recovered."

"Tell girlfriends you sentence." The officer smugly ordered.

"I'm sentenced to thirty years of wearing the criminal's collar"... knowing that the officer would demand it I continue: "and a switching every 90 days."

She wasn't through yet, calling to some of her fellow officers in Danubian, she says what I think meant: "Officers, It seems that I have caught criminal # 88588 corrupting these two young women. He should know that dishonored scum like him don't deserve their attention."

Several more officers were near me then. My tormenter was pleased. "Officer Stashak, I believe you know this criminal."

I heard another female voice then. This policewoman quickly let loose a long series of insults in Danubian which I couldn't keep up with. Officer Stashak was a woman I knew all too well.

In English my tormenter asks: "You miss Officer Stashak? Tell girlfriends who Officer Stashak is."

Utterly humiliated I reply. "Officer Stashak is the partner of the policeman that my employer shot... and she administers my judicial punishments."

"She make Criminal # 88588 scream at trial and much cry yes?"

I remained silent, and apparently moved a bit too much. I felt the burn of the switch twice across my shoulders.

Snapping back into form, I managed to reply in a tone of barely suppressed hatred: "Yes, officer."

"Get up", the officer said. "Carry for girlfriends."

I tried to ignore the stares of all the people who had been watching this curious scene and picked up the bags. I walked inside the lobby eager to finish and go home. The girl's were ahead of me, and the officer who stopped me followed behind. With my mood lower than ever I follow the girls into the elevator. The officer still has a look of pure delight on her face, as we got off at the third floor and find the suite where the girls were staying.

Samantha knocked on the door. An older man that I suspected was her father answered the door. He obviously wasn't thrilled to have his daughter and her friend escorted by a naked criminal and a cop. "Sammie, is there a problem? Who are these people?"

Samantha looked back nervously. "Uh... this is Arthur, he's a criminal that helped us carry our bags, and this... this is Officer... I don't know her name but she's just escorting us to the room."

The man paused to look us over. "I... I see, thank you officer, and... and Arthur. Please excuse us." He took the bags and hurried the girls inside.

I turned to the officer.

Pleased with herself, she smiled. "That will be all Criminal # 88588; I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

So Tee, that's how my day went...

---------

Arthur grew tired of writing. He put down the pen and carefully removed the three pages that the letter was written on. He wadded them up in his hands and threw them in the trash with all the other letters he never mailed.



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 05



Chapter 5: Old Friends and Silver Mines 

On an unusually cool morning in June Arthur stood on the patterned brick walkway that he helped build. It was the 8th, exactly one month since his arrest. In that time the brown and yellow path had advanced a hundred meters closer to the war memorial. Though there was a slight glow in the east all the brighter stars were still visible in the predawn sky; at least the sky was familiar.

The fog that rose off the river always made it feel colder than it actually was, so to warm up Arthur started setting up some of the equipment that he and a few other workers would use. After another thirty minutes Jakt's old pickup truck rumbled down the road. By that time the sky had lightened just enough to see his newest worker walking toward the truck.

The old man laughed: "Arthur, I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Standing around out here in the damp air while it's still dark, you're going to get sick. The others have the good sense to stay in bed for another hour; sometimes I think they put that collar of yours on too tight."

Arthur appreciated the old man's tact; not mentioning the real reason Arthur went to work so early: to avoid the morning police patrols. Arthur smiled and tried to respond using the couple hundred Danubian words he knew. "Good morning Mr. Jakt." He gestured to the tall pile of bags in the truck bed. "You get big load on small truck."

By the time Arthur had the truck unloaded the sun was rising and the three other young men that Jakt employed had arrived. They were recent high school graduates and seemed to be close friends. Arthur hadn't bothered to learn their names since they avoided any contact with him anyway; free people, he figured, probably didn't want to be seen with a criminal.

Just as he dumped the first bag of cement into the mixer there was a tap on his shoulder. Behind him was one of the bicycle couriers who deliver packages around the city. This young woman said something after he turned around but the mixer was too loud to make out the words. Arthur threw the sack down and walked over to where the courier had parked her bike. She repeated a phrase twice before Arthur realized that she was trying to pronounce his name.

"I'm Arthur Liggett." The courier handed him a clipboard so he could sign for the package.

Inside the large brown envelope was a form printed in English on Ministry of Justice Letterhead.

"Criminal # 88588, Arthur Liggett: You are to report immediately to the office of Spokesman Ralkliv. By order of the Ministry of Justice you are released from all previous responsibilities to give priority to this directive. Failure to respond in a timely manner will result in further reprimands."

Nothing good can come from this, Arthur thought. After informing Jakt, Arthur went directly to his spokesman's office.

The secretary at the front desk said Ralkliv was expecting him, so Arthur went down the hall, opened the door to his spokesman's office and walked in. Inside was a surprise, a very bad surprise. Before he thought Arthur blurted out: "Son of a Bitch!"

Kneeling on the floor in front of Ralkliv's desk were the two girls that he met the previous week. They were completely naked and totally terrified. Samantha and Laura looked back at Arthur and cried uncontrollably.

Spokesman Ralkliv glared at Arthur. "Criminal # 88588 you will address me in the proper manner and kneel while doing so!"

Arthur came back to his senses. He dropped down to his elbows and knees, touched his forehead to the tile floor, and then greeted his spokesman in the manner that protocol demanded. During this time Arthur understood why Ralkliv had been so severe. Three police officers were seated to the left of his desk.

"Criminal # 88588 you may kneel upright but remain on the floor." Ralkliv looked even more agitated when he turned to the two naked girls weeping by Arthur's side. "Young ladies you must stop this crying immediately, I'm trying to help you!"

When they quieted down somewhat Ralkliv turned to Arthur. "These two Americans were arrested last night for the possession of a controlled substance. During interrogation they mentioned spending some time with you. Is this true?"

Arthur looked past Ralkliv; he swallowed and paused for as long as he thought he could get by with. Though he tried to think of a way out of this mess, nothing came to mind. Arthur sadly realized that he had little choice but to tell the truth: "Yes spokesman. I met them about a week ago on the west side of the city. I bought them lunch and then escorted them back to their hotel."

Ralkliv translated to the police investigators then they posed another question.

"Arthur, I want you to think very carefully before answering my next question. Did you know that these suspects had ecstasy tablets with them?"

Arthur knew the idiot girls must have already spilled their guts or he wouldn't be in this situation and no one would ask him that question. He was cautious though, not wanting to admit anything: "Spokesman, do I have to answer questions that would... implicate me in a crime?"

Ralkliv's mouth fell open for a second. "Criminal # 88588, when you are asked a question by your spokesperson you are expected to answer the question truthfully and without hesitation!" Ralkliv pointed an index finger at his client. "To this point I have been very lenient with you, since you were a foreigner I didn't hold you to the same standards as my other clients. I thought I would overlook your behavior and give you time to adapt but perhaps that was a mistake." Ralkliv picked up the fancy engraved ink pen he always kept at his desk and twisted it nervously in his right hand. A frustrated Ralkliv glanced down at the whimpering girls and then back to his client. "Now, Criminal # 88588, you must tell me... and realize that any resistance or deception on your part will be considered proof of your guilt and grounds for further charges. Did these young women tell you about their ecstasy tablets?"

"Yes spokesman." Arthur felt the misery of a condemned man. "While we were at the diner they mentioned having something they called 'Skittles', from the way they acted I assumed they were talking about illegal drugs."

Spokesman Ralkliv and a police investigator talked at length, then he posed another question. "How did you respond after these suspects told you of the 'Skittles'...as you say... that they brought into this country?"

Arthur's shoulders slumped; he knew he was trapped, there was no way out. "I told them to stop talking about it, so they wouldn't get in trouble."

Ralkliv spoke to the police then he turned to Arthur with a disappointed look. "Arthur, by not reporting criminal activity to the police and encouraging the suspects to avoid capture you have violated one of the conditions of your sentence."

Arthur could hardly breathe but he needed to know: "Spokesman, are they... are they going to execute me?"

"Execute you?" Ralkliv made an exasperated expression. "Of course not..." He leaned forward, tapped an index finger dramatically on his desktop. "But you are still in some very serious trouble, Criminal # 88588." Ralkliv spoke quickly, his voice full of irritation. "You have displayed little regard for the law or for the trust I placed in you! You have dishonored yourself. One month, you cannot stay out of trouble for one month! One month!"

Ralkliv stopped then, closed his eyes for a couple seconds, took a deep breath, settled back in his chair, and regained his calm professional demeanor. "Arthur, the prosecutor is offering you a deal. He is willing to request leniency in exchange for your testimony at the trial of these young women. I suggest you take it."

--------- 

For the second time in thirty days Arthur was back in the Rika Chorna Courthouse. This time he was a reluctant witness for the prosecution. As Spokesman Ralkliv had explained; the two suspects already admitted their own guilt but the prosecutor wanted all the evidence on record regardless.

The court decided to try both suspects at the same time, which Arthur thought might not have been such a good idea. Every time one of the girls broke down crying the other would start in as well. Arthur just tried to ignore the theatrics and focused on the floor until it was his time to testify.

Arthur knelt next to the prosecutor's desk, which was to the right of the judge's seat and faced the elevated platform. His two "girlfriends" stood a few meters in front of him in their usual hysterical state. With multiple spotlights focused on them their naked bodies seemed nearly to glow. They were quite attractive, Arthur thought. Samantha was tall and willowy with a light complexion and shoulder length blond hair that not surprisingly was natural. There was nothing subtle about Laura's form though, the generous curve of her hips, the slender waist, and full breasts that moved in a most fascinating manner as she sobbed...

Arthur came to his senses just in time and averted his eyes away from the bodies of the two naked suspects. In just a few minutes he would have to stand and speak in front of a courtroom full of people and several television cameras. Arthur really missed wearing pants.

The prosecutor had Arthur describe the events from a week earlier and confirm that the girls told him of the pills they had at the hotel. The prosecutor was finished with him after just a couple minutes of testimony but the judge was not. She turned to Arthur and a court official translated.

"Criminal # 88588, you have admitted to violating the terms of your sentence by not reporting criminal activity to the police. I will see you and Spokesman Ralkliv in my chambers at break to discuss the penalty for this violation. Is this clear?"

Arthur knew this was coming. "Yes, Your Honor."

Arthur was dismissed. The prosecutor ordered him to kneel at that back of the courtroom, safely out of public view, at last. He quietly withdrew and resumed kneeling with at least some dignity as the prosecutor called his next witness. A security guard rose to testify. The prosecutor showed him photographs that were also projected up on the big screens for the audience to view. The first photograph was taken inside a hotel hallway. The next photo was a close up of a tall ashtray canister along the wall. The metal tray had two cigarette butts and a couple of gum wrappers, and something else. Fourteen pink pills, each with a smiley face stamped onto it, were half buried under the sand and the wrappers. The prosecutor held up a clear plastic bag containing the fourteen pills.

Arthur badly wanted to strangle Samantha and Laura. AN ASH TRAY. They got rid of their damned 'Skittles' in an ashtray! He had warned them about Danubian drug laws and here they act stupid, get caught and then bring his name into it.

Arthur cringed as he had another thought: What if that plane crashed and I'm really dead... and this is Hell? I'm such a sinner. The drinking, the blasphemy, the gambling, making fun of religious people... Shit! I should have listened to those Mormons! 

It took less than an hour for the prosecutor to finish presenting his case and then the judge retired to her chambers. Spokesman Ralkliv left the two girls under the supervision of an apprentice while he and Arthur went to discuss the situation with the judge. The judge, however, wasn't going to negotiate anything; her decision was made already. She just motioned Ralkliv over to her desk, said a few derisive words about his inability to control Criminal number 88588's behavior, and then she handed him a signed form.

Spokesman Ralkliv read the judge's orders to his client as soon as they were back in the courtroom.

"Judicial authorization for the additional punishment of Criminal # 88588 due to a violation of the terms of his criminal sentence; the items are as follows:

Item 1: Criminal # 88588 will receive a formal judicial punishment of twenty-five strokes of the standard police switch to be administered by the arresting officer or other qualified personnel on the 9th of June. Item 2: Criminal # 88588 will report to the Ministry of Public Works on the 10th of June to be assigned a place on a work crew performing hard manual labor for a period of three months' time."

As Spokesman Ralkliv tried to comfort and focus his newest clients Arthur stood quietly to the side and contemplated his bad luck. Not only would he have another appointment with Officer Stashak in the morning but then the next day he would be shipped out to some camp; it was just the sort of thing that would happen in Hell.

The trial restarted and Spokesman Ralkliv gave the girl's defense, which considering the length of his talk, wasn't much. He finished in just over ten minutes then the judge focused her attention on the two girls. The Judge spoke and a court official translated.

"Defendant Samantha Sherman do you have anything to say before this court pronounces the verdict?"

Samantha had briefly stopped crying so she could address the court. "Please Your Honor I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..." Then there was a long series of apologies, crying, and senseless babbling. After a while the Judge cut her off.

She asked the same of defendant Laura Brawne but Laura had started crying during the middle of Samantha's hysterical statement. She just stood there and continued sobbing. Apparently that was good enough for the Judge.

Arthur heard the details of the sentence translated by the court official. Three year sentences each with a switching twice per year. Three year for possession of fourteen smiley faced pills. Arthur wondered what Danubians would do to somebody caught with a kilo.

While Ralkliv was trying to get the girls over to the collar machine the room was readied for the punishment phase of the trial. A second portable table was brought in and set up near the permanent one.

Arthur noticed that Spokesman Ralkliv and the other court officials were having a great deal of trouble with the girls. With all the hysterical crying, begging, and thrashing about, the technician couldn't keep them still enough to put their collars on. Spokesman Ralkliv looked embarrassed and the judge grew furious at the delay.

The judge lost her patience and called four court guards over to take control. They grabbed Samantha first, handcuffed her hands behind her back and then forcibly held her still while the technician measured her neck. Then, with a guard on each side of her and another securing her head the technician clamped the collar on Samantha's neck. The guards let go of Samantha and she just collapsed to the floor weeping while Laura was put through the same ordeal.

Arthur glanced out into the audience; it seemed they were eager to see the girls beaten. From what Spokesman Ralkliv had told him Danubians expect a stoic attitude from their criminals and above all a respect for authority. The out of control behavior of the girls was probably interpreted as a personal insult.

The four guards and two pairs of police officers all but threw the girls on top of the tables and quickly strapped them down. Samantha's face froze in a horrified expression when the policeman pulled the leather wrapped switch from his belt. As he walked closer to her she stopped moving altogether like a frightened rabbit trying to hide from a predator. He took his time though examining her exposed body. His left hand wondered to the small of her back just below the leather strap that held her waist so firmly to the table. Samantha broke her silence when the officer's hand slid further back to explore the curves of her bottom.

Arthur looked to Spokesman Ralkliv who just sat there with a serious expression while the policeman fondled his client in front of the judge, court officials, and hundreds of spectators in the audience. The policeman and his female partner then moved behind their helpless victim. He used his hands to further expose the most intimate parts of her body to the other cops and leering crowd. A close up view of this lurid scene played on one of the large video screens at the front of the courtroom. Arthur could hardly believe that no one was stopping this policeman's conduct. If the police can do that to a criminal, Arthur wondered, what else can they do?

After humiliating Samantha for a minute, the policeman began her punishment. He aimed and then struck hard across the left cheek of her exposed bottom. As she screamed the policeman and his female partner exchanged devious glances. There was a brief conversation with the other pair of officers. Then it was Laura's turn to feel the switch.

Laura's fuller figure afforded the policeman a fine target for his switch. The curves of her bottom drew his eyes and then his hands. Laura made a pitiful sobbing noise as he traced his fingers across the contours of her full cheeks and then lifted and spread her buttocks to further expose his captive. With a wicked glance toward his partner he quickly stepped to the side and delivered a cruel strike of the switch across her bottom. Laura screamed as the pain built and the police admired the strength of the blow.

It seemed to Arthur that these two pairs of police officers were having some kind of competition with the girls. In between strokes of the switch all four cops would examine the unlucky girl's bottom with a great deal of touching by both the men and the women. They alternated back and forth with pauses between strokes of about forty seconds. By the time each girl had felt the tenth stroke their bodies were slick with sweat and their sobbing was only broken by screams each time the switch landed.

During the middle of the punishment Arthur figured out it was a competition of accuracy. As the switch fell on the girl's unfortunate bottoms the red line of a welt would rise then the next would stroke was aimed about two widths of the switch lower and so on until they reached the crease that separated their buttocks and thighs. On the way back up the officers tried to strike the unmarked skin in between the raised welts. Obviously if the first set of strikes weren't parallel there would be no way to strike the undamaged skin in between.

Try as they might one of the officers would eventually miss and overlap one of his strikes. On the thirty-first stroke of the switch the policeman in charge of Samantha grimaced and had to admit defeat as his poorly aimed strike overlapped. Though the officer had apparently lost a wager the agonized scream from Samantha made him smile nonetheless.

Spokesman Ralkliv got up then to check the condition of his clients. For reasons that Arthur didn't understand the police could put a criminal through agony for an unlimited amount of time but if there was a little drop of blood the punishment must end.

The Spokesman directed the last few strokes to the thighs of his clients. Then it was over and the girls were released from their restraints.

---------

Arthur arrived at the office of Spokesman Ralkliv early the next morning. After going through the formal greeting and getting up off the floor, Arthur thought that he better try and mend fences with Ralkliv right away.

"Spokesman, I didn't mean to disrespect you in front of the police officers yesterday, please excuse my careless words. I was just so surprised to see those girls that I said something I shouldn't have and I failed to show the proper respect."

"Make sure you don't do it again. Maybe in America it's acceptable to use that kind of language but here in Upper Danubia we do not burst into someone's office cursing 'son of a bitch'. Let me tell you if the police had understood your words you would have gotten more than just yelled at."

Ralkliv leaned his elbows on the desk and rubbed his temples. "I woke up this morning with a pounding headache. I know it was that trial. I believe it was the low point of my career. The behavior of those American girls... they dishonored themselves and damaged my credibility as a spokesman."




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 05



After a pause he looked at his client in a tired frustrated way. "As for you, the additional punishment that the judge ordered will be carried out this morning. The way this will happen is that Officer Stashak and her partner will come to my office, handcuff you and take you into one of the rooms in the basement. Only the two officers, a judge, and myself will be present for your switching. There will be twenty-five strokes but other than that it will be the same as your first switching." Here he paused and picked up his phone.

"I'm going to have my secretary get me something for my headache. Arthur, would you like some coffee or something to eat? No?"

Ralkliv took his pills and poured a cup of coffee. "Tomorrow you need to come by my office at seven in the morning to pick up the paperwork that transfers your custody to the Ministry of Public Works for the next three months. You're going out of the city with a work crew that's stationed in a town west of here, so I may not see you again until September."

Arthur sighed: "A switching and three months in a hard labor camp... Spokesman that really doesn't sound very lenient."

"No, just average I'm afraid. Even though the prosecutor requested leniency in exchange for your testimony the judge had the final say and I suppose she wasn't impressed."

---------

Officer Stashak had an unexpected treat on the 9th of June. There was an official memo from the Ministry of Justice waiting on her when she went to pick up her morning assignments. The American Spy had slipped up and earned himself another beating.

She smiled at the thought of punishing the criminal who had wrecked so many lives. Stashak thought criminal # 88588 deserved to be executed for what he and his partner did. While she couldn't take his life, Officer Stashak was determined to exact the most suffering she possibly could from him.

Two hours later she had Criminal #88588 securely strapped down and ready for his punishment. Officer Stashak flexed the switch in her hands just like the last time he was at her mercy. She struck him hard across the buttocks and then waited for the pain to increase. She and her partner admired the strength of the first hit as the white line on his skin turned to red and began to swell. Below the first welt she tapped to get her aim then stuck another fierce blow.

The twenty-fifth stroke nearly made him cry out, nearly. His body trembled with pain but he had remained relatively quiet during the punishment. Next time would be different she promised herself.

---------

In the wide grassy courtyard of the Ministry of Public Works hundreds of criminals came and went. Teams of Public Works employees kept the criminals moving along at a brisk pace, not unlike cattle being pushed through a sale barn. Arthur stood in several different lines. He got his paperwork stamped and stamped again, his picture taken, his fingerprints pressed on another document and finally, at the end of the line, an irritable clerk seated at a large metal desk took his paperwork and handed him a ticket bearing his official name and group number.

Arthur was sent out the door to join his group. Criminals lined up alongside a row of buses that were parked in the courtyard; each bus had a number on the side. Arthur's ticket had group 6 stamped on it. He walked along the circular drive past bus 8, bus 3, bus 17, and bus 25. Arthur started to feel a little better; the criminals who were standing in those lines didn't seem all that upset; they carried on conversations in a normal manner. Perhaps the hard labor camp wasn't going to be as bad as he feared after all.

The next group, though, changed his mind. That miserable group of men all had something in common: every one of them had been recently beaten. As he got closer, Arthur cringed; group 6 was painted on the side of the bus. For what seemed like the fiftieth time in the past two days Arthur tried to reassure himself that it couldn't possibly get any worse. He took a deep breath, got in line and like the rest of group 6, he waited in silence.

Bus 6 turned west toward the mountains that divided the Upper Danubia into east-west halves. Thirty minutes later the bus arrived at the city of Novo Sumi Ris. This was the center of the Danubian silver mining industry; every load of ore came by rail through this small but industrious mountain town. The crushing, smelting, and refining went on all day, giving the dusty collection of rail lines, cheap housing, and factories a sulfurous metallic smell.

Steep forested slopes hemmed in the town to the north and a mountain stream cut a narrow gorge into the overgrown tangle of willows, brambles, and bedrock to the south. Rows of buildings crowded onto the only flat ground available: narrow strips of land to either side of the train tracks. Novo Sumi Ris didn't look so much like it built the railroad tracks, but rather the other way around.

A contingent of guards awaited the criminals as they unloaded from bus 6. The collars' electronics were useless outside of the Rika Chorna collar zone so the guards used more crude measures to control the criminals' movements. Ten criminals at a time had to line up and then drop to their knees so the guards could fasten their collars together on a long chain. As a guard locked the chain onto his collar's loop Arthur glanced back at the rest of group six, all hooked together like fish on a stringer. Further down the road he could see a group of about twenty female criminals coming up the street.

Group 6 marched through town to a fenced-in complex of metal buildings adjacent to the railroad tracks. As they stopped by the gate to the men's barracks the group of female criminals that Arthur had noticed earlier walked past. When he heard someone speaking English he couldn't make himself look. It can't be, he told himself, there must be other Americans here.

"Arthur." The voice said: "Oh my god Laura! Look it's Arthur!"

There can be no doubt, Arthur realized. The chains, the sulfurous smell, the futility of trying to escape these two: it all made sense. He had passed through the turnstile of Hell!

---------

Arthur didn't sleep much that first night. For one reason his canvas cot had an aluminum bar on the end that he kept banging his head on, another was that freight trains rolled past every couple hours.

Once after nodding off Arthur dreamed of the beach in Washington State that his family used to visit when he was a child. Huge ocean waves rolled in and crashed against the rocks throwing a spray of salty mist in the air. His father and a five-year-old Tee were examining a big crab that the surf tossed onto the beach. Arthur climbed up one of the jagged outcrops that protruded into the sea. Then he glimpsed an especially large swell. It grew like a dark mountain rising out of the Pacific and came ashore with such force that the ground shook under foot...

Arthur awoke in a panic and stood up. There was no wave, just another freight train passing through town. After being startled awake for the third time in one night he decided to stay up and get dressed. Getting dressed... looking around he remembered where he was.

The barracks had a line of twenty-five cots along each side, with about three feet in between cots. There was a tin roof overhead and a concrete floor. To the north: a primitive restroom and a water spigot. The most soundly built part of the whole complex was the high perimeter fence topped with razor wire.

Just as the eastern sky brightened guards came to take the criminal work crew to the mess hall. There were several other crews and five shotgun-wielding guards present at this high security breakfast. The food was surprisingly good, Arthur thought, far better than the meals that he or Jakt tried to cook. Mr. Jakt's idea of breakfast was a bowl of plain oatmeal, bread, and water; whoever was cooking back in the kitchen at least knew how to make biscuits and fry eggs.

Then it was off to work. The group put on their issued orange work boots, leather gloves, and hard hats. Fifty men chained together wearing just these three items marched through the middle of town. Arthur was sure this was one of the weirder sights he had ever seen, but residents on the street seemed to take no notice. The guards marched group 6 down the paved street that paralleled the railroad tracks for a kilometer then they turned up a smaller road that squeezed between the smokestacks of the refinery complex and a row of rusty warehouses. The road went upslope to the forested hills northwest of town.

The worksite was a long abandoned mine on the steep slope a hundred feet above the road. There were multiple shafts cut into the cliff near the top of the slope and a thick talus deposit extended down almost to the edge of the road. After Arthur and the rest of group 6 climbed to the flat spot near the mine the guards removed their chains and ordered them to kneel as the work foreman arrived.

Though Arthur couldn't understand all the foreman's words, it was obvious what the problem with this location was. The old shafts had undermined the integrity of the slope resulting in occasional landslides that spilled onto the road below. The hillside would have to be blasted back and terraced to reduce the overall slope. That sort of job produced a lot of debris and that's where criminal work crew 6 came in.

After an exhausting day at work the crew was re-chained and marched back in to town. Arthur ate a huge supper, bathed using the soap and metal bucket he was issued, and then collapsed on his cot to rest. Just as he lowered himself down on his stomach he heard a woman call out his number. Arthur struggled to his feet and lumbered outside. An irate female guard stood by the gate with two kneeling criminals behind her.

Arthur started to get down on the ground too but the woman motioned him to stop. She spoke slowly and clearly so he was able to understand most of her words.

"Criminal # 88588 you are American?"

"Yes, officer."

"These are also Americans, but they do not know Danubian language. You teach girls Danubian after work."

This was one of those times that Arthur thought Rumak had gotten the better deal.

The stern woman pulled out her switch and waved it about to make a point.

That apparently wasn't a question, Arthur realized. "Yes officer."

"Teach well or girls and Criminal # 88588 get hurt. Tell girls that you teach them every day after work. That will be all."

Samantha and Laura remained kneeling on the ground even after the guard was out of sight. Arthur could see the switch marks from their judicial punishments two days ago had turned dark but there were a few more recent welts across their shoulders now.

"Oh, just get up already," he said. "She's gone."

The girls cautiously stood up. Arthur could tell they were close to crying again so he attempted to get them focused on the task at hand. "You two have to learn to speak the language, and unfortunately that guard ordered me to teach you. I don't want to hear any excuses; you're going to learn the few words and phrases that I know. We will meet here every day after supper. Now let's just go somewhere quiet and do the first lesson before I fall asleep."

Samantha broke her silence: "Arthur, the people are so mean here, they hit us and chained us up, and... and..."

Arthur nodded gently. "I'm so sorry that happened to you Samantha, but it's going to be alright, we'll get through this together, I promise." Arthur's eyes narrowed. "See, now that's the sort of thing I would say if I Really Gave A Shit! I don't guess you noticed the switch-marks on my skin? The Judge had me beaten for the second time in a month because of you, and she sent me here for three months hard labor also because of you and your stupid drugs!"

Laura paused from crying. "I'm really sorry we got you in trouble Arthur, It's not right..."

"If I had just one wish right now," Arthur groaned as he rotated his shoulders, stretching aching sore muscles. "It would be for the energy to strangle you both. You hid... your Skittles... in an ashtray, after I warned you!" Arthur put both wrists forward. "Why didn't you just walk up to a cop and say: here's my drugs officer, would you arrest me please?"

Samantha hung on the edge between anger and despair. "You..." She choked back a sob. "You got caught too." Her lip quivered and tears rolled down her cheeks as she trembled and cried silently.

Arthur took a long breath, he was simply too exhausted to stay angry. "Yeah," he admitted. "For a spy I'm not all that elusive."

"Listen," Arthur tried hard to concentrate. "You know, last week, at the restaurant, when I told you about how criminals lead fairly normal lives? I lied. I guess I was embarrassed about it at the time but the truth is that criminals are nothing more than property here and you can't expect to be treated like human beings any more. That's over with."

Arthur looked both traumatized girls in the eyes. "This place scares me too, I understand, but you've got to toughen up and try to help yourselves. These guards have no pity for criminals, especially foreigners like us, and when they give an order they expect it to be carried out. So if you want to help me and help yourselves just try to learn everything I can teach you." Arthur half yawned half laughed. "Of course with that angry guard threatening to beat us all to death, getting motivated shouldn't be a problem."

"Oh god!" Laura cried. "That's what she said?"

"Well... not to death." Arthur laughed. "Said something like: 'teach well or you and the girls will get hurt'. Not a very friendly sort is she?"

"She hit us today, with her switch, I don't even know why." Laura absently tried to cover her naked body with her arms. "They call her something like 'maristrika.'"

"Hmm... a title or rank maybe." Arthur guessed. "I noticed all that brass on her uniform. Could mean captain or major or whatever." Arthur thought of something. "So, I'm just curious. I know I got sent here for not reporting a crime, how did you two end up here?"

Samantha looked down avoiding his eyes; Arthur could tell she was deeply ashamed of herself. "You watched our trial. The judge was angry with us for disrespecting the court; yesterday morning we were brought back into her chambers. She sent us here for three months. She said that the guards here would teach us to respect authority."

"What did your parents do? Are they still in the country?"

Samantha's looked down at the dusty grass and barely more than whispered: "I don't know; we were supposed to leave Monday morning. The police arrested us Sunday night, then there was our trial the next day and after that I was too afraid and messed up to ask questions." She paused for a couple seconds and almost imperceptibly shook her head. "I don't know if I want to see them now; I don't want anyone to see me like this... I don't want anyone to know what the police did to me. I'm too ashamed. I can't face them now."

Arthur nodded; he couldn't help feeling some sympathy. "I know what you mean. Listen, there's no point in me being mad at you two for getting me in trouble. And I really can't blame you for bringing up my name during interrogation; I know what those bastards are like. You did something stupid and so did I. What's done is done... let's just forget about it. We've got enough problems already. So..." Arthur shrugged: "Ready to start class?"

Samantha wiped away tears and nodded.

Laura was still trying to cover herself, folding an arm across her breasts and the other shielding between her legs. "Yeah."

Arthur quickly glanced around for guards. "You better not do that, Laura. Criminals aren't allowed to cover themselves ever... that may be why they hit you today."

Laura sadly nodded and put her hands down to her sides.

Arthur pointed northward. "Right over there, next to the perimeter fence; now that's a near perfect classroom, just needs a little fixing up." Arthur started and then looked back at the girls. "Well, come on; don't want to be late for your first day of class do you?"

The three criminals made their way over to a shaded area beneath an enormous oak. Arthur broke a stick into a sharp point, got down on one knee and scratched a Danubian word into a patch of bare clay. "This," Arthur said, "means 'yes' its pronounced 'doc' just like it looks."

After an hour of Arthur's Danubian language class Samantha and Laura could say their official names, and three essential phrases: yes officer, no officer, and I don't understand officer. That was good enough for day one, he thought. Arthur was so exhausted that not even the trains woke him up that night.



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 06



Chapter 6: Mail Call

Almost two weeks passed before any mail arrived at the work camp. The announcement came after supper when Arthur and his two students were in the middle of a lesson. This was both a pleasant surprise and a cause for apprehension. Even though he had written several letters to friends and family not one of them was mailed. It was somehow easier not to think about his former life and all he had lost.

Arthur collected four letters then walked back to the shady spot under the big oak. Both Samantha and Laura were already reading their mail when Arthur sat down to examine his letters. Three letters were from Tee and the other one was from his mother. He really didn't want to open that one just yet, so he selected the earliest letter from his sister. The letter was postmarked five days after his trial, the thirteenth of May.

Arthur, 

I just have a bit of time to write before I have to leave for class this morning, so I'll scribble fast. Just so you know I picked up your truck; you're a pig by the way. Is that peanut butter in the floorboard? 

The trip over to meet your landlady was interesting. She said your girlfriend came by yesterday. "Don't tell Arthur I said this," she whispered. "But that girl's a tramp." I guess you always did attract interesting company. After I paid her the five hundred dollars she quit grumbling so much about you and the company you keep. She even invited me inside her place for iced tea. 

I picked up the dog although I refuse to call him 'Lucky' since he has ruined three of my rugs already. Did you know he had bladder control issues when you pawned him off on me? Every time I come home he runs toward me both peeing and jumping. I don't have many visitors. 

Anyway, I'd like to know how you're doing. It might do me some good to hear that your life sucks worse than mine does, so hit me back. Gotta go; your damned dog's chewing on my lamp again. 

Go to Hell, 

Tee

Samantha and Laura were trying to read their very serious letters while Arthur snickered.

"What are you laughing about?" Samantha put her letter down in the dirt.

"My dog peeing on my sister's stuff... now that's comedy! Listen to this." Arthur read his sister's letter aloud.

"Goddamn, she sounds just like you." Laura smirked.

Samantha was incredulous. "You're a criminal in a hard labor camp in this fucked up foreign country and your sister wrote you... about a stupid dog?" 

"Hey, don't talk ill of poor Lucky." Arthur said. "He's a good dog, just got a nervous temperament and an undersized bladder is all. Let's see... this letter's from May 20th."

Arthur, 

You still haven't written me back. I thought criminals had a lot of time on their hands. Mom's been driving me nuts about you; she thinks you're being tortured or something. You two were barely on speaking terms for the last four years now you're all she wants to talk about. The lengths you will go to get attention Arthur; that's really mature. 

One of your former coworkers called me yesterday. His name was Bill or Billy or something, and he wanted to know why you weren't at the league baseball game Saturday. He said you were a better shortstop on Saturday mornings before you got into the beer. That's funny, I never saw you play baseball sober before. Anyway to avoid any embarrassment about your situation I gave him a pretty good excuse for your absence. It turns out you moved to California to join an end-days cult in the desert, your family tried to talk you out of it but you had to go where the Prophet said. 

I've been taking some summer classes at college; I just sit back in my flip-flops and shorts and relax. There's a lab assistant in my chemistry class who gives me so many hints that I don't really have to pay attention at all. Science nerds always appreciate the opportunity to talk to an actual girl. Sound familiar? 

Anyway, I just thought I would waste some more time writing to my criminal brother even though he doesn't bother to write back. I sometimes still think you made all that shit up. I mean where the hell's Danubia anyway? Why couldn't you get arrested in Spain or France? 

Write me back you idiot, 

Tee

"See, now that letter had some real heartfelt emotion in it," Arthur said. "Didn't have any urinating dog content but that was still some pretty deep stuff."

"If you say so..." Samantha smirked.

"Arthur," Laura asked. "Have you not been wearing your hardhat?"

"Well of course I wear it... the guards make sure of it. Those guys are really great at that sort of thing, even though we don't speak the same language they have a way of getting their point across clearly."

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Yeah, we've seen your back, we noticed."

"Oh," Arthur said. "It looks like I have one more letter from Tee, postmarked May 23rd. Sit back and enjoy!"

Arthur, 

I just realized for the first time ever that I miss you. If you were here I wouldn't have to put up with so much shit. Mom had me contact the American embassy Monday, then some deputy jerk-off at the State Department, then some of our congress critters. 

There was one man at the embassy that actually thought you're a spy. I said that the government isn't that desperate; but he kept telling me how he believed you worked in intelligence. "If there are two words that don't belong together," I told him, "it's Arthur and intelligence." As you know I have been your most steadfast defender. 

Mom talked to an official at the State Department about you and he thought that perhaps some kind of a deal could be worked out between the US and Danubia to exchange prisoners or something. I expected they would be eager to trade you for just about anything the Danubians so far are unresponsive. 

And that dog of yours is enough to drive a mad girl sane. I walked him down to the park yesterday; he ran in a circle, wrapped the leash around my legs and lunged. I hit the dirt then 'Lucky' ran off down the street. After searching for five hours I found him last night in a dumpster behind a restaurant. I guess he jumped in there for the food but couldn't get out. So thanks to you I had to wrestle a dog covered in table scraps out of a dumpster on Saturday night. You've done wonders for my social life Arthur, on a related note "Lucky" found a piece of sausage in my hair last night. 

Write me back sometime if you're not too busy making prison hooch or whatever it is you do. 

You really suck, 

Tee

Arthur exclaimed: "See; now that's a letter!"

"Does she always talk to you like that?" Laura asked. 

"No, there's usually more cursing. I might ask around tomorrow and see if I can get some writing supplies and send her a letter back."

"Anyway," Arthur said. "I suppose we should finish up this lesson so we can get some rest. I'm just about to run out of useful phrases, most of the words I've learned here just seem to be cussing and insults." 

The lesson was finished in another half hour and Arthur went back to his cot in the barracks. He didn't have anywhere else to put Tee's letters so he placed them in the now dry metal bucket that rested under his cot. He opened the remaining letter and with some apprehension he read his mother's words. 

"Hmm... let's see... starts out with the obligatory trite stuff- 'she loves me, misses me, blah, blah, blah."

"Oh here we go, now she's back to her usual self... 'She's worried, she's suffering, she's disappointed in me, do I know what I'm putting her through?' Ha... next time they're beating the shit out of me I'll be sure to think about how much she's suffering. Let her go back to her other family if I'm too big of an inconvenience now."

One thing stuck in his head, his mother's question: 'Why do you have to be so reckless, do you know what you're putting us through?'

"Well..." Arthur fumed. "Maybe if you hadn't run off with your new husband and his kids I wouldn't be in this mess!" 

Arthur thought about what he just said. "Well...that didn't make any sense at all." He tossed the letter in his bucket he lay down and tried to sleep.

--------- 

The next day was like any other; Arthur spent twelve hours carrying rocks down the slope and tossing them in the back of a dump truck. As soon as the slope was clean the engineers would blast and create a new pile of debris that had to be removed. The guards made sure the criminals worked hard all day through the liberal use of a leather strap they kept ready.

Arthur had trouble understanding most of the orders but when the work foremen grew angry they always used the same phrase. Form up meant the criminal should stand up straight, turn around, and fold his hands behind his head with fingers interlocked. This position allowed the guards to strike a criminal across the shoulders without risking accidental damage to a criminal's hands. The last thing the Ministry wanted to do was to impair a man's ability to work. They never struck any lower on the body; Arthur figured, to avoid any legal complications when it came time for a criminal's judicial punishments to happen.

Even the most hard working and cooperative men on the crew had marks across their shoulders by the end of the first week. The language barrier and Arthur's general aloof demeanor grated on the supervisors' nerves and cost him more punishment than most. The guards made a big show of it when he got in trouble; beating the American spy in front of the whole work crew. Arthur endured it as best he could; he tried to not show fear when a guard stepped behind him with the strap's wooden handle held in one hard fist. He could only wait for the guard to draw back his arm; then there was a whispery noise as the strap cut swiftly through the air. The pain that radiated across his shoulders was something Arthur could never ignore. The five-inch wide strip of thick leather hit hard and stung horribly.

Animal was the foremen's' favorite insult, by far the most common term used to describe the criminals on the work crew. Dishonored animal, lazy animal, stupid animal and many adjectives he didn't yet comprehend were yelled at him throughout the day, insults that sometimes came along with an order to form up and endure a few burning strikes of the strap.

Samantha and Laura had also been through a difficult time the past two weeks. The women's crew didn't do hard labor up in the mountains; instead they did tasks like cleaning the barracks and other public buildings in town. The women were also responsible for preparing meals and when they weren't cooking or cleaning the guards marched them outside the city to tend the city's farms. After work they looked just as exhausted as Arthur felt. 

After supper Arthur decided he would try to get the writing supplies. He walked to a small metal building that the warden used as an office. He opened the door, walked inside, knelt and waited for permission to speak.

The warden and a couple of his foremen had been talking before the interruption. "What are you doing in my office?" The Warden demanded. "You better not get my floor dirty." 

"Sir," Arthur said. "Could I have some writing supplies; a pen and paper to write a letter?" 

The warden was less than cooperative. "You animals don't need to write, just work." After being abused by the two foremen Arthur went to find his students. 

"You know," Arthur rubbed at the side of his head. "That was the first time I've literally been thrown out the door. I did pick up a new phrase though, I think it means filthy worthless dog in Danubian but I'm not sure how to spell it." 

Samantha sighed, shaking her head. "They're beating the shit out you and you're thinking about grammar; you're pretty fucked up Arthur."

Arthur sat down in the dirt trying his best to look indignant. "Such language; as soon as I get some paper that's going directly on your report card young lady!"

Arthur gestured to the clearing between the tree and perimeter fence. "Sometimes, I don't think you kids appreciate the proud tradition of this fine educational institution. You just take it for granted, like it's always been here but let me tell you a story. Let me take you back, all the way back to the beginning, when I started this school with nothing but the collar on my neck and a pointy stick for scratching words in the dirt; but I did have one thing... I had a dream."

"Arthur," Laura snickered. "That was like thirteen days ago."

"Yes," Arthur reminisced, "how far we've come since then. Why, it seems like only yesterday we were sitting right in this very spot practicing numbers and adjectives." 

"That was yesterday." Samantha smirked.

"Arthur," Laura jabbed. "Were you like this before your arrest?"

"Nah... I usually wore pants."

A cute little wrinkle formed on the bridge of Samantha's nose when she smiled big. Laughter transitioned into exhaustion, she stretched out stiff arms above her head. "Oh, I'm so sore... so tired. I could go to sleep right here in the dirt." 

"Don't lay down then." Arthur said. "I've still got some educating to do. For today's lesson I want to go over something a little different, I've taught you some things you can say to the guards, other criminals, and staff. Now you need to know what not to say."

"I've learned through many bad experiences," Arthur nodded toward the warden's office, "that Danubians are easily offended; say the wrong thing and you'll get yelled at or worse. And having a conversation with a public official is comparable to defusing a bomb. You gotta be cautious and prepared.

Arthur picked up the pointy stick and scratched a number one in the dirt. Then he wrote the word LYING. "Okay... number one on my top ten list is lying. Never ever accuse a Danubian of lying; even joking about it will offend them."

"Don't admit to lying in the past either," Arthur advised. "They'll look at you like you kicked their dog or something. So the point is: don't get caught lying. Obviously, it's best to just tell the truth unless it's really worth it.

Now, I'm not completely sure I've got this right but I think that if they catch you lying they'll drag you over to their Church and put another collar on your neck!"

"No way! Another one?" Laura's eyes widened and she covered her mouth with a hand.

"Yeah, I think so... see, about a week after my arrest I saw this naked dude with a different sort of collar so I asked Spokesman Ralkliv what kind of criminal he was. Ralkliv told me he wasn't a criminal at all; he was some kind of a captive belonging to the Danubian Church! He couldn't say what the guy did wrong but he did tell me that people who are collared by the Church have often been caught lying. So I decided right then and there I wouldn't be caught, don't want to end up with my neck stretched out like a giraffe." Arthur gripped the edge of his collar. "Just having one of these is bad enough, never figured I'd have calluses on my neck. Uh... okay... on to number two..."

Half an hour later Arthur got to number ten on his list and everyone was tired. Samantha yawned and stretched. "Mmm... so Mr. Liggett, is that all? If you don't have any more lessons for us I really want to get cleaned up and get some sleep."

It amused Arthur how the girls sometimes treated him like an actual teacher, asking for permission to leave and such. He changed from English to Danubian: "Class is dismissed. Goodnight Criminal number 88634 and Criminal number 88635. I will see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight Criminal number 88588." They both stumbled through the words, improving a little every day.

Arthur admired their butts as they strolled back toward the women's barracks. He was tired too, but before he got up something occurred to him: he was really enjoying the daily meetings with Samantha and Laura. He thought about the girls often, especially Samantha. It didn't make sense how a person could be happy at a hard labor camp but at least for a time after work, he was.

---------

Persistence does sometimes pay off in life. The second and third day that Arthur went to the warden's office he got the same result, but on day four the warden relented.

"Young man," he said. "You're an idiot. You come in here every day even though I tell you not to come back. And even though you get thrown out the door every day you continue to come back." The warden opened a desk drawer. A notebook and a couple pens hit the floor in front of Arthur. "Now are you satisfied?" 

"Yes sir." Arthur had his small victory that day. 

Laura and Samantha waited beneath the oak. "You got it?" Samantha's eyes opened wide. "I can't believe it. Still, that's a lot to go through for a notebook." 

"I've got a couple ink pens too." Arthur waved them about, proudly showing off his prizes. "Now if you will excuse me I'm going to go write some hate mail to send to my idiotic sister."

Tee, 

I just received your first three letters this week. I suppose all my mail is being screened for secret spy language before they let it through. They probably thought the poor grammar and senseless rambling in your letters was some kind of a code. It's good to know that you went at least a week without wrecking the truck, and that's not peanut butter in the floor it was ice cream. 

I always suspected my landlady talked about me behind my back, but I suppose she knows a worthless tramp when she sees one, you did say she invited you inside. I'm surprised you're having such a hard time with Lucky. He seems just as well housetrained as your last boyfriend, and at least he shows the initiative to go out and get his own food. 

I received mom's letter too. You can tell her that what's happened to me isn't what I would consider torture, and I know torture. I've attended five of her family reunions. Much of her letter was spent lecturing me on how I should have listened to her and stayed out of trouble. I suppose she probably tried to warn me as a child not to get involved in espionage in Eastern Europe but I just wouldn't listen. 

Billy's baseball team's really going to miss me; I had the biggest cooler. And I had a strict rule: no beer before noon unless I get thirsty. The end-days cult was a nice touch, but I'm more of UFO cult kind of guy. 

Tee, it's baffling how you even got accepted into college, but since you're there I suppose your current technique of acting like a whore to get actual students to do your work for you is your best shot at getting a degree. You might try a little harder than flip-flops though if your plan to negotiate with the professor for an A. 

There are several words in the English language that I could use to express my gratitude for the few phone calls you made on my behalf, but I don't feel like using any of them right now. I contacted several of them myself and you should see the fine collection of form letters they sent. 

Since this is the first letter I'm actually going to send you, I suppose I should give a bit of an overview of what life is like here. For the first month I lived in the city of Rika Chorna. It's a fairly big city on the eastern side of Upper Danubia. I had a job as a bricklayer and I lived at my boss's house. 

Three weeks ago, however, I happened to get off work early and I met these two American girls. They were here as tourists at the time, so I bought them lunch and we talked perhaps a little too much. A week later those two got arrested for possession of some illegal drugs and since I knew about their drugs all three of us got in trouble. The judge sent us to a hard labor camp at a town called Novo Sumi Ris. So it's going to be September by the time I get back to the city. I'm set up pretty good here though; I've got my own canvas cot and a metal bucket. The food is also better than one would expect from a hard labor camp. 

I can't make any phone calls but I'll try and send out more letters. Writing supplies are difficult to find here, you wouldn't believe what I went through just to get this notebook. 




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 06



Remember, I'll always be better than you, 

Arthur 

---------

By the third week the Danubian language lessons were getting shorter as Arthur had less and less to teach. There was consequently more time to talk. While Laura wrote a letter to a friend, Arthur and Samantha traded stories about their families.

"Arthur, no offense but your family is so weird; I mean your sister seems just as odd as you are." Samantha smiled, intolerably smug. "I come from a respectable family in Claremont. Dad's been selling real estate there for years, my older brother's the high school basketball coach, and my mom is a guidance counselor at the middle school. We attend church every week; we're active in the community so everybody knows my family. My dad's even on the city council." 

Arthur laughed: "Samantha, you cuss like my grandma. You're from a respectable family? What happened, were you raised at a truck-stop and later adopted?" 

"Shut up, I'm trying to be dramatic here! Now where was I?" 

Arthur stopped laughing, somewhat. "You were telling us about your respectable family, I believe." 

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Now they have to tell everyone that Samantha's not coming back for three years. She's a criminal. That's pretty fucked up for the daughter of the guidance counselor to be convicted of drug possession." 

"Perhaps," Arthur suggested, "she could turn your situation into one of those motivational posters like: 'Don't do drugs kids or you might end up in a hard labor camp with a dog collar on your neck like Samantha.'" Arthur rolled about laughing.

Samantha leaned forward, slapped his leg hard, and frowned as he spasmed even more with breathless laughter. Her eyes narrowed. "I'm serious Arthur." 

It was several seconds before he gathered enough air to respond in a voice high and breathless. "Serious! Well... that... that's half your problem right there. This is the most ridiculous place I've ever been, and I've been to Austin!" After seeing her annoyance at his continued interruptions, and feeling his own need for additional oxygen Arthur decided to shut up for a while.

"Okay, okay." Arthur rose up on one elbow. "Go ahead and give your dramatic speech, but make it dignified as you can," Arthur snickered, "while sitting naked in the dirt." He collapsed back, feeling small rocks against recent welts, not caring.

"Well, it's about fucking time," Samantha tried to gather her thoughts. "I was about to say how I don't want people back home to know what I've went through here." She looked off into the distance. "That letter was from my mom. She said that she knew I was innocent; that I didn't take drugs. She said they would fight for our release. She said not to give up, that we would get through this together." 

Arthur caught his breath at last and gave an approving nod. "That story's got more drama than a Mexican soap opera, it has real potential. It would make a good made-for-TV movie maybe." Arthur framed the line out in his hands: "Innocent American girl imprisoned in strange foreign land; now that's a classic, although we might have to take some creative license with the innocent part." 

"Arthur," Samantha prodded. "Have you ever considered professional help?" 

"I had a coupon once, but I lost it."

"Well I'm glad that you find this situation sooo funny, Arthur. I for one didn't plan on spending my summer in a hard labor camp. I... I just can't believe this." Samantha's shoulders slumped and she absently ran her fingertips along her metal collar. "I don't deserve this. I mean... I'm not a drug dealer... or an addict even... I just wanted to party and have a good time. It was just a few pills..."

"Well," Arthur suggested: "Just look at it as a learning experience."

"Learning experience!" Samantha scoffed: "What the fuck did I learn?"

"Well..." Arthur was ready to burst. "You... um... you learned that sometimes Skittles come with handcuffs instead of rainbows! Ha!"

"God." Samantha groaned. "Maybe they should execute you."

"Oh," Arthur tried to stop laughing. "They'll probably get around to it eventually." 

"Enough jokes Arthur." Samantha nervously glanced away. "There's something I want to know. The letter was mailed from Rika Chorna three days after my trial, so my parents stayed in the city to try and help us. Do you think they found out what that policeman did... you know what happened to me at trial?" 

Arthur suddenly felt exhausted. Reluctantly, he gave her unwelcome news. "I hate to tell you this Samantha, but trials are widely publicized, there are photographs and articles in the newspapers about all the defendants, and at least some of your trial was probably on television. So if your parents were in Rika Chorna after your trial they surely know what happened." 

Samantha turned away. "I think I'm going to go back to the barracks and lay down." 

--------- 

Wednesday was the first of July, and there was a break in the routine. After breakfast the criminals were marched to a sports field at the city park. There were about two hundred male criminals and around fifty female criminals sentenced to the work camp in Novo Sumi Ris. The warden had all two hundred fifty of them take a seat in the small section of bleachers overlooking the field. Then the warden called forty-two names. Thirty-three men and nine women nervously approached him and knelt. 

On the first day of each month judicial switchings were administered. To avoid disruption of work schedules as well and to minimize the travel time required for the judges, spokespersons, and police officers involved all criminals with scheduled punishments in a certain month received their switchings on the first. 

Arthur sat in the bleachers with the rest of the work crews and watched as the warden made the forty-two criminals line up on the field. Next he ordered that the punishment tables be set up. The criminals themselves were required to set up the platforms that they would be beaten on. In pairs they carried the portable devices onto the field. The paint-splattered platforms obviously started out their lives as portable scaffolding, though some enterprising worker refitted them with bolted on leather restraints. The criminals raised the flat top, locked in the aluminum cross bars and extended the four legs firmly into the turf. After forty-two tables were assembled each of the criminals stood nervously awaiting the arrival of the officers that would beat them.  

The officers who would administer the punishments were a combination of guards from the camp and police with Rika Chorna insignia on their uniforms. Five spokespersons and a judge took seats overlooking the scene. Although it did nothing but remind him of his own punishment due the next month, Arthur and the other criminals were required to watch the entire punishment. August first would be especially bad; Samantha and Laura would see him punished. Though in front of the girls he acted like nothing bothered him, Arthur badly dreaded of his next meeting with Officer Stashak. 

The punishment began just after sunrise with the officers striking in unison. The tables were turned toward the audience so that the faces of the criminals were on display. Arthur recognized several faces from group 6 suffering down on the field. 

Most of the forty-two criminals remained silent for the first half of the punishment, though after that their cries grew increasingly loud. Arthur reluctantly watched as the beaten criminals tried to deal with the mounting pain. Their breathing increased, their bodies became wet with sweat, and many clenched their teeth or pressed their foreheads hard against the tables. Later, as their resistance eroded, tears rolled down the faces of the abused criminals. They gasped and trembled and tried desperately to remain quiet. Finally they would cry out and lose all self-control right in front of the two hundred criminals they work with. The officers who administered the switching seemed to especially enjoy the cruel satisfaction of breaking a criminal in front of their peers. 

Just about an hour later the beaten criminal's lined up facing away from the crowd to kneel and kiss the shoes of their tormenters. After the judge certified the punishments the warden had them assemble for group photographs taken from both the front and the back. With the completion of the judicial punishments the beaten criminals had to walk back to their barracks. Arthur and the remaining criminals were chained and marched off to work. 

--------- 

The Fourth of July, Arthur's favorite holiday back home was just another miserable day at the work camp. No hotdogs, no black-market fireworks, no beer; nothing but work; loading rocks for twelve hours in the summer heat. The high temperature wasn't doing much for the foreman's personality either. He expected group 6 to work as hard in the midsummer heat as they did in the spring. Like a line of fifty ants they carried loads down the hill, deposited their loads then marched single file back up the slope. After an especially hot and grueling day of work the crew returned to camp. 

Arthur cleaned up, ate supper and then went to meet with Samantha and Laura. He waited for several minutes but neither one appeared. That harpy must be making them work late, Arthur thought. He decided to go sit in the shade while he waited. A few steps later there was a loud voice that sounded an awful lot like the before mentioned harpy. Turning around, his suspicions were realized. This guard's bad temper made her notorious for terrorizing the female criminals under her watch. In a scene eerily similar to what happened a month earlier the head female guard approached him with his students following behind. 

Arthur knelt down and nervously waited for whatever trouble was headed his way. 

Major Drazetka marched a couple paces from where Arthur knelt, the terrified girls dropped to their knees and waited behind her. "Criminal # 88588 what have you been teaching these dishonored animals?" 

Arthur chose his words carefully. "Officer, I have taught these... young women to speak and write some simple Danubian phrases and how to count..." 

"Is that all that you teach them?" 

He felt this woman was laying a trap, so Arthur remained cautious. "I do not understand what you are asking me officer." 

"You are the spy aren't you? Your name is Liggett, is it not?" 

Arthur paused trying to figure out this angry woman's motives. 

"You will answer my question now!" 

"Yes, officer. I am Arthur Liggett and I was convicted of espionage." 

"You have taught these two deception. I have something for you to read. Sit up." 

She handed him a couple photocopies of pages that were removed from the notebook they shared. Each was part a letter written in two different hands; obviously they belonged to Laura and Samantha. Arthur grew apprehensive; surely the girls realized the government was examining their mail. He knew not to write or say anything that could be used against him. 

"Officer, I don't think it's right to read a person's mail without their permission." 

Arthur knew he would pay for that, but after a hard day this guard was really getting on his nerves. 

She pulled her switch out. "Stand up spy; turn around. Get your hands behind your head." She struck hard then made her point. "I do not need permission." She struck again. "You are nothing but a dishonored criminal." She punctuated the last word of her sentence with another vicious swing of the switch. "These girls are nothing but dishonored criminals." She swung her switch. "Criminals are property." Arthur clenched his teeth and tried to deal with the pain of the latest brutal strike that burned across his skin. "This is my camp, you are property of the Duchy, and I am your custodian." She paused, breathing heavy, after the fifth stroke of the switch. 

"Criminal # 88588 turn around and face me."

Arthur blinked to try and force the tears from his eyes before turning around to face the guard and his two students. 

The Major tapped the end of her switch on his chest and stared as if daring him to refuse. "Read the letters." 

He glanced at Samantha and Laura. They nodded subtly, and Arthur gathered up the papers off the ground. There were excerpts taken from a longer letters and photocopied onto the two sheets. Arthur read through the first page. 

There was nothing that immediately drew his attention. It had to be one of Laura's letters since Arthur and Samantha were mentioned in the text. Arthur assumed that it was written to a family member from the context. There was a description of the camp and some of the people that she worked with. Then there was an account of some of the abuse they had suffered since arriving. Though she used some ill-advised words it seemed fairly accurate from what he had seen. 

The next page was a collection of three excerpts from Samantha's letters. What stood out to Arthur were the vivid descriptions of her mistreatment at the hands of the guards. It confirmed Arthur's suspicions that some of the male guards were sexually abusing the young women. 

Arthur was disgusted with the guards, the police, the whole damned country, but most of all with the officer that stood before him. He dropped the papers to the ground. 

"Criminal # 88588 what do you have to say yourself; why have you taught these dishonored animals to spread lies?" 

Arthur stood and remained silent. His hate filled stare seemed to amuse her. 

"Such anger." The Major taunted. "Go ahead, attack me; I would like nothing more than to see you before the firing squad. Perhaps these deceitful girls would be punished as well." She moved close and spoke in a mocking tone. "Is it true that you don't have any opinion on the lies they spread about my guards?" 

"As you say officer, I'm government property. Property has no opinions." 

"Don't play games with me criminal #88588; I am giving you a rare second chance. Admit that you had these criminals spread lies about my guards." 

"It was not my friends who lied, officer." 

As soon as the last word was spoken Arthur knew he made a mistake. By provoking this woman he had probably made both the girls' and his own life more difficult. There was always a high price for calling someone a liar in this country, especially for a convicted criminal who had minimal legal standing. The guard in question was also second in command behind the warden, so in this camp her word was as good as law. 

Arthur glanced at Samantha, there were tears, but there was also a slight smile on Samantha's face. This act of defiance did feel good for the time being, later would come the consequences.



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 07



Chapter 7: Arthur vs. the Post

Arthur groaned as he woke. It took a moment to remember where he was. He got up on his knees and elbows and wiped the soil off his face. His left eye wouldn't open; a crust of dried blood and dirt kept it glued shut. His head throbbed when he sat upright. The light seemed too bright at first; the moon illuminated the camp from the west. Arthur could make out the shapes of several of the barracks and the large square mess hall.

The damp night air flowing down from the mountains felt chilly to a man unprotected by clothes or shelter. The collar and chain seemed especially cold.

Arthur pushed the chain aside and got up on his hands and knees searching for water. One of the guards had at least left him that. Arthur scooped a double handful of water out of the metal bucket and splashed it onto his face. A couple more times and he was able to open his left eye and wash the dried blood and dirt off the swollen spot above his left eyebrow. That particular injury was self-inflicted. He remembered stumbling face-first into the post; the guards thought it was pretty funny. He had fallen unconscious while it bled.

Arthur was so thirsty, he drank and drank; and then he rested, doubling over with his forehead on the ground. After a few minutes he felt better; he grabbed a section of chain so it didn't pull on his neck, and stood. He found the eyebolt that the chain was locked onto; it was about one inch thick iron that had been driven into the post. Arthur twisted on it hard with both hands, confirming that it was highly stable and strong. The post was sturdy too, about a foot thick and a few inches taller than him.

Next Arthur decided to see how far he could go from the post. He had to lean outward and pull hard to stretch the heavy chain tight at approximately four meters or thirteen feet. Arthur walked a complete circle. The circle's area, a quick calculation revealed, was about 50 square meters or 530 square feet.

Arthur stood with the chain held high in one fist. Looking upward at the moon, he laughed. "Pi are square? Hehehe... Pi are Not square!" He shouted at the sky. "Cake are square, Pi Are Roouunnd!" Arthur cackled and dogs in all directions started barking. Arthur missed his dog. Lucky was now his sister's dog, though his name wasn't really Lucky. It's hard to give away a dog named Squirts.

Arthur sat down and the barking eventually stopped. It was so quiet, so dark in Novo Sumi Ris at night. His back was too sore to lean against the post; Arthur shifted forward, holding his head in both hands. He watched the moon set behind the western mountain ridge; silhouetted trees looked like miniatures from such a distance. Arthur thought about the previous night; he reached a hand over his left shoulder. The skin was swollen and still hot, there were some scabs.

He felt ashamed of what he'd done. He wished he had just taken the blame instead of angering and insulting the Major. Now he had surely made life even harder on Samantha and Laura. What did his resistance gain him anyway? The Major got everything she wanted. Though her knowledge of espionage was seemingly restricted to plots from thirty-year-old movies; the Major's brutal methods were highly effective.

Arthur remembered signing a confession and then, while a guard held either arm, the Major had used a permanent marker to write a word across his chest. She had laughed mockingly and then issued an order. Two guards had dragged Criminal number 88588 off to the eastern side of the men's section to a sturdy wooden post two meters high. A third guard with a flashlight followed, dragging a heavy chain behind him. 

Arthur felt a chill as the wind blew; he curled up on his right side, closed his eyes and tried to sleep, all the while wondering what became of the girls. He hoped Samantha and Laura fared better than him.

---------

He woke to the distant wail of a horn. A freight train never failed to roll into town at exactly four thirty AM. A door opened and shut, the gate slid back and several guards started their morning shifts. Pole lights flickered on. Criminal # 88588 didn't want to move but to stay on the ground would only invite more abuse.

A light fog settled in the valley, the mist was illuminated by a few lights starting to come on in the town. Arthur got up on one elbow and looked around. Lights were already on in the kitchen and mess hall; the women had to get up thirty minutes earlier than the men so they could prepare breakfast. Some of the guards were waking the men's crews, flipping on lights, banging on doors, and yelling in their typical harsh fashion.

Arthur saw a guard walking toward him; a stout built man, with a military-style short clipped hair, and a nose that hooked, giving him a stern severe expression. Arthur rolled over onto his knees and elbows, rested his forehead on the loose sandy soil and waited. Footsteps stopped in front of him.

"Stand up criminal." The man said.

Arthur tugged the chain to the side and stood. The man searched his key ring and stepped close to open the lock. The guard threw the lock and chain on the ground; then he roughly grabbed Criminal # 88588's chin and looked at the wound on Arthur's forehead under the brightening lights. He made a falling whistle sound that Arthur had heard other Danubians make to show disapproval.

"Come with me." The burly guard walked toward the back of the guard's quarters. Arthur followed. In a detached way he was curious about what would happen next... torture perhaps, or maybe they would just shoot him in the head and get it over with. Maybe they would wait for sunrise. He always liked sunrise; it would be good to see the light in the treetops, hear the birds, and feel the warmth on his skin one last time.

The guard unlocked the door of a small metal shed and ordered the criminal inside with him. The room smelled of rubbing alcohol. The guard pointed to a metal stool: "Sit."

The guard gathered up a sterile cloth, sloshed some alcohol on it and began cleaning the wound above Arthur's left eye. "Keep eyes closed."

A few drops of iodine were applied to the wound and then the man found an appropriately sized bandage to cover it up. "There... done." Then he had Arthur turn and lean forward a bit so he could see his back in the lamplight. He opened a cabinet and looked around a bit then shook an aerosol can. Some cool spray hit Arthur's back.

When the guard finished he looked at the criminal approvingly. "Feel better now?" He didn't wait for an answer. "See... I should have been doctor!" He laughed like it was the funniest joke ever and then shooed Arthur off. "You're cured now; go eat, go eat!"

This man, Arthur realized wasn't nearly as mean as he looked. Arthur turned back toward the guard. "Uh... Sir, am I going to be executed?"

"Bah!" The guard paused from putting up supplies. "Bullets are expensive, why waste one on you?" He frowned and then said: "Follow the rules and maybe things get better." He gestured toward the door: "Go on now, go eat."

Arthur stepped out of the building feeling mildly pleased that his execution wasn't imminent. He walked into the mess hall to join the rest of group 6. The other criminals averted their eyes and turned away. To other criminals, Arthur figured, the word written on his chest must be a warning.

Group six went up into the mountains, worked twelve hours, came back to the camp and ate supper. Then as the rest of group 6 returned to the barracks Arthur carried two buckets across the yard to the post: one full of fresh water for drinking and bathing, and another bucket with a lid that took the place of a toilet.

The guards expected him to lock the chain onto his own collar before they came by for the nightly inspection. He hoped that it would be one of the junior guards instead of the angry woman that confronted him before. The other guards might get a bit rough, but she was far worse. A high-ranking officer like her probably wasn't required to perform such menial duties, the warden certainly never did, but the Major obviously enjoyed the power.

Arthur gathered up the end of the chain, hooked the open padlock through the last link and over the collar's loop. He reluctantly locked it shut. The post was at the eastern boundary of the men's section, a hundred meters from the women's quarters. Trees and buildings mostly obstructed his view; Arthur moved as far south as the chain would allow and looked for Samantha and Laura. Perhaps, he hoped, they would come out by the fence and look for him too.

---------

A miserable week passed without any sight of the girls but Arthur was determined to find out something. One evening, at supper, he noticed a young criminal leave early; Arthur put away his tray and followed. He was able to corner the very young and very nervous Danubian criminal behind the barracks. A bad reputation, Arthur figured, had to be worth something.

The skinny young man looked like he was about to vomit when Arthur rounded the corner at the end of one of the long sheet-metal buildings. Arthur stepped close and shoved the guy back against the wall when he tried to slip past. Arthur tried to look his most menacing: "You're going to me something."

"I ... I can't... I'm not allowed..." He tried to escape and Arthur slammed him harder against the wall. The young man did vomit then.

Arthur glared at him like a mountain lion looks at a poodle that just vomited on him. "Have you seen the two American girls this week?"

Overall, Arthur thought his attempt at intimidation was pretty successful, disgusting but successful. He learned that the girls were still at the camp but they were placed on disciplinary status, working extra hours until after dark. Unfortunately, before Arthur could learn any more, a guard caught the young Danubian talking to the American spy. It cost them both a minor beating but it was worth it, for Arthur at least.

---------

One evening in late July a criminal from group 6 walked by the post and a folded paper triangle fell out of his hand. The criminal never acted as though anything happened and continued on his way. Arthur casually palmed the paper; and when he was sure no one spotted him he buried it under the sand; it would be safest to wait for night, and read it under the near full moon.

The message was written on the back of an invoice for canned goods. Arthur knew that Samantha had taken a big risk smuggling a note to him; how she convinced the criminal to deliver her message would be interesting to know. Though Arthur hoped the subject was some daring escape plan, all that she really had to say was that she and Laura had to work longer hours and they were not supposed to talk to each other. The Major had them on separate work crews now, but they were able to sneak around and meet each other every few days. Of course, there was the sort of content that he expected: she was thinking of him, she hoped he was doing all right and such. Samantha's wording was somewhat repetitive and there were a couple misspellings. Arthur sighed; he was a little disappointed at the quality of his first secret prison correspondence.

"I should write a fitting secret message," Arthur said. "Something worthy of all the risk and planning; it would have the right wording, sentence structure, and... and it could be in rhyme like the Iliad or... "

Startled by a dog barking, Arthur realized he was standing up and speaking out loud again. "I um... I... sleep, I should sleep now." Arthur refolded and buried the note beside the post. Tomorrow was either the thirtieth or thirty-first day of July. Did July have thirty-one days? He recalled that all months named after Roman Emperors like Julius, Augustus, and Octavian had the maximum of thirty-one days. So the first of August was either one or two days away. The knowledge that another judicial switching was quickly approaching didn't help him sleep very soundly that night.

When Arthur awoke the night was unusually dark; he looked up to see the stars but instead there was a large dim form hanging above him or perhaps below him, and the surface his body rested on wasn't a cot or flat ground but it had corners and cold metal protruding from it. Arthur held on tight as vertigo overwhelmed his senses. He had the feeling of being suspended high in the air on some beam or tree limb ready to fall if he let go. His feet, he realized, were not touching bark, or metal, they weren't even suspended in the air; Arthur felt sand between his toes.

He took a series of deep breaths and tried to calm down enough to examine his surroundings. Arthur reluctantly let go with his left arm and reached out but nothing was there, then searching above his head he felt the square end of the beam. After a few tense seconds he understood what had happened. Arthur released his death-grip on the post and looked down; he had wrapped the chain around the post five times. Wrapped up like a tetherball and standing upright against a post is no good way to wake up at night. With his pulse still pounding in his ears Arthur sank down and gripped his head in his hands. "I'm fucking sleepwalking again."

He stood up and circled counter-clockwise to unwrap the chain. "If I wasn't held captive here," he grumbled. "I'd demand that idiot therapist give me a refund!' Avoid stressful situations' she said. Ha! No stressful situations here, no way."

Again he realized he was speaking out loud, though no one was around to hear. The lights from an approaching freight train came into view to the west; as it traveled downhill from the pass its brakes squealed and the train slowed. It was the four-thirty train that supplied the refinery. With thick clouds overhead the night was almost completely dark, but it was too late to go back to sleep now. Arthur sat down and leaned against the post. He drew his legs in close and shivered as the wind picked up. "Surely that wasn't lightning." There was a rumble overhead and the first heavy drops of rain splattered in the dust.

---------

During work the next day Arthur found out that it was the 31st of July. There were several others in his group who shared his apprehension, although everyone did what they always did. They worked hard for twelve hours, marched back to camp, cleaned up, ate supper, and went back to their barracks.

After supper Arthur filled up his clean bucket with water and walked to the northwest corner of the perimeter fence. He picked up the loose end of the chain that he swore was heavy enough to use on a log-truck, and then gathered the equally oversized lock. "Damned lazy guards," Arthur grumbled, "making me lock myself up." The lock snapped shut and Arthur tried to find some comfortable way to rest without the weight of the chain pulling at his neck.

A guard always came by about an hour after supper to make sure Arthur was securely fastened. It was usually a junior guard that worked the night shift, and most of them, didn't show much interest in him. An insult or a slap was about as bad as he got from them, but at least once a week the head female guard, Major Drazetka, came by to personally inspect him.

As Arthur anticipated, she didn't miss the opportunity to harass him the day before his scheduled switching. Arthur pulled the heavy chain aside and forced himself to kneel down to the woman.

"Criminal # 88588, you don't look pleased to see me; that really does hurt my feelings. I always enjoy seeing you on your knees and chained up like a dog." She raised the tone of her voice. "And tomorrow morning I will enjoy seeing you strapped down and beaten. Do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to have you set up right in front of me, so we can see more of one another. It will be most amusing to watch the faces you make as the policewoman whips you."

The Major shrugged. "I was going to request the task of punishing you myself, but it seems the officer who switched you at your trial is making time in her busy schedule to come all the way out here to our camp. Isn't that considerate of her, Criminal # 88588?"

Arthur stayed in his kneeling position and had a fantasy of knocking the legs out from under this woman and tightening the chain around her throat. He thought he might really kill her... if given the chance.

"Don't you have anything to say? What's the matter, perhaps you miss your friends, the two American girls?"

She pulled her switch out and she slowly walked around her victim. "I have good news Criminal # 88588; you and the girls will see a great deal of each other tomorrow. In fact I think that I'm going to have them sit by me so they have a good close view of your punishment." She tapped his bottom with her switch. "I do hope that the officer who administers your switching gives you a nice hard beating. I think it would help correct the girls' attitudes to see their dishonored friend break down and cry right front of them."

The major circled back around while dragging the tip of her switch along Arthur's spine. "I seem to have forgotten, Criminal # 88588. Who is the officer that is in charge of punishing you?"

Arthur burned with hatred for this guard who so enjoyed his humiliation; finally he spit out the words. "Officer Stashak"

"Yes, I remember now. Officer Stashak. I just couldn't place the name. Did you know that I attended your trial?" She laughed: "You're so quiet today, but you were not so quiet at your trial were you? I enjoyed hearing you scream and watching you cry as the officer whipped you; I do hope you put on as good a show for us tomorrow."

"But it's getting late, and I suppose I should let you get some rest before the big day tomorrow. Criminal # 88588, did you chain yourself securely to the post as you were ordered?" She raised her voice when she got no response. "You will answer me!"

Arthur's voice obscured none of the hatred he felt for the Major. "Yes officer."

"We will see, Criminal # 88588."

She inspected the lock in her usual way. With Arthur remaining in the kneeling position with his forehead to the ground, Major Drazetka grasped a section of chain above the lock and pulled upward with steady force until her victim couldn't breathe. "Stay in position Criminal # 88588," she warned while tapping him with the switch in her right hand. After a while her arm grew tired and she dropped the heavy chain on his back and left him gasping for air while she walked back to her office.

Arthur slammed his fist into the dirt in frustration, heaved the chain to the side, and leapt up. He could see his tormenter walking down the sidewalk in the distance, but there was nothing he could do about the guard, or the next day's beating; just wait for it to happen. Feeling absolutely powerless and alone he finally sat down and leaned against the post. His fingers felt a sharp corner in the sand. It was the note that Samantha had sent him; he unfolded it and read through it again.

He whispered to himself: "Not completely alone." After he re-buried the letter Arthur lay down and exhaustion overwhelmed him. He slept soundly that night.

----------

There were few words spoken at breakfast. Instead of the lively conversations that usually filled the mess hall in the morning, there was only the noise of a couple hundred workers eating: spoons scraping against aluminum trays, and cups set down on the tabletops. Arthur stood alone and leaned against the cinderblock wall. He wasn't allowed to sit with the rest of group 6. Arthur didn't feel hungry at all. He drank a mouthful of water and walked outside to the yard where the work crews gathered every morning.

Two of the six crews were already marching north toward the park. Arthur and the rest of group 6 dropped to their knees and waited. A young guard collected one of the ten-meter chains off the gatehouse wall and began locking it onto the criminal's collars. As soon as Arthur and nine other criminals were secured the eager guard marched them forward a bit faster than normal.




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 07



After they arrived at the park the criminals were unchained and ordered to take their seats in the small section of bleachers that overlooked the soccer field. Crew 6 filled the back row and waited. The warden walked out onto the field at sunrise and began calling numbers off his list. Arthur tried to at least appear calm as he lined up with the other forty-four criminals on the field.

The warden double-checked his list; when he was satisfied that all the criminals were accounted for he ordered that the tables be set up. Arthur paired up with another young man to carry two tables onto the field. He helped the young man set up his table then, as they were about to get the other one unfolded Major Drazetka took charge. The Major wasn't satisfied until Arthur's table was set up not ten feet away from her front row seat. True to her word she sat with Samantha and Laura to either side.

For several tense minutes the forty-five criminals silently stood by their punishment tables and awaited the arrival of the officials that would oversee the switching. Arthur found it hard not to look at the hated guard sitting directly ahead of him. Although Samantha or Laura were in no mood to talk, the Major didn't miss the opportunity to further torment the Americans. She spoke loud enough that the otherwise silent crowd had no choice but to overhear the conversation.

"I think it will be good for you dishonored girls to see your friend disciplined today." The major looked Arthur in the face and continued to speak in a mocking tone. "I watched this spy friend of yours get punished at his trial and it was most amusing, if he screams even half as loud this morning he will surely wake the whole town. Today you will see that your friend is nothing more than a weak, cowardly, dishonored animal, just like yourselves. Though it will be fascinating to see how much pain he can endure before he breaks and further disgraces himself in front of his former students. Tell me girls, are you looking forward to seeing Criminal # 88588 punished?"

Samantha avoided looking directly at him. "No officer." Laura's low trembling voice echoed the same. As bad as he had been treated in the past three weeks Arthur thought that the girls might have been through worse; though standing beside the switching table Arthur knew that was about to change. Still, he refused to be provoked by the woman. Arthur stood at attention like a soldier and tried to show no reaction to her words. Before she could continue her taunting the warden announced the arrival of the court officials.

A judge and five spokespersons, Ralkliv wasn't among them, took their seats overlooking the scene. Then a contingent of guards and police walked out onto the field. As Officer Stashak approached, Arthur knelt down before her.

"Pay attention girls." Arthur heard the major's venomous words as he stretched forward to kiss the toes of Officer Stashak's shoes. After the tap on his shoulder Stashak ordered him to get into position on the punishment table.

Arthur fought off a wave of despair and humiliation, and then resigned to his fate; he obeyed the policewoman. He moved to the far end of the table and placed each foot against a cold metal leg and then bent forward ninety degrees at the waist. Arthur stretched forward, extending each arm out across the heavy leather restraints that were bolted to each corner. Officer Stashak's strong hands buckled the straps around his left ankle and then his right. She had a wicked smile on her face as she walked to the front of the table to secure his wrists. After he was stretched out over the table with wrists and ankles bound; Stashak wrapped the wide leather strap around his waist and tightened it so that his stomach was pressed firmly to the aluminum table.

Arthur looked forward; like the first switching in the courthouse there were over two hundred people watching. This audience, however, was more sympathetic; they knew exactly what he was going through. Arthur tensely awaited the first strike of the switch. Major Drazetka ordered the two girls to watch carefully; and though he didn't look, she was certainly referring to him alone. Arthur closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against the metal surface and braced for the first blow. Officer Stashak and the other officers struck in unison.

Officer Stashak touched the line that was quickly swelling and turning red. "It will only get worse Criminal number 88588. I'm going to make you suffer for what you did to my partner."

Though Arthur had no control of his situation, he resolved to give Officer Stashak and especially the major as little pleasure as possible. He would resist. Pressing his forehead to the table, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on something other than the pain.

Arthur heard the first sounds of weeping after Stashak and the other officers struck a tenth time. After the pain receded a bit he wondered if it was better or worse to keep count. Against his better judgment he raised his eyes to look toward the guard and the two girls seated to either side. The Major was scolding Samantha for looking away.

Arthur counted the twenty-second stroke of the switch, and it took every measure of his will to remain still and quiet. Officer Stashak had started overlapping the previous welts, and the pain was so fierce that for many seconds he couldn't breathe at all. He hoped that no one had noticed how hard he pushed his head against the table or the tightening of his fists. The loud wailing of the female criminal to his left didn't help. The sobbing young woman had an especially rough time; her tormentor had no problem with fondling her helpless body in between strokes of his switch. Arthur looked away as the pain and despair on her face was too much to bear. Then the whistle of all the switches moving quickly through the air and the impact of the next stroke refocused him on his own pain. As the forty-five criminals were drifting toward desperation the officers who administered the punishments seemed to enjoy themselves more. Compliments were given to the officers who made their criminal cry out loudest. Arthur closed his eyes again and awaited the agony of the next stroke.

He was still keeping count as the Stashak struck the thirty-first time on the back of his left thigh. There was no longer any way to mask his pain, he couldn't help but gasp and strain against his bonds at that point. Breaths came in ragged intervals and sweat trickled into his eyes, mixed with tears, and dripped onto the metal tabletop. As the pain faded slightly Arthur heard the Major order Samantha and Laura to pay close attention; their friend was about to break.

Stashak had also noticed his resistance erode. "I have been looking forward to this for a long time Criminal # 88588. You can't resist me much longer can you?" She mocked. "Now I'm going to beat you nice and hard... make you scream."

Through the last part of the beating Arthur lost count as his whole perception shrunk to the sensation of intense pain. Crying out in agony, he tried in vain to break free from the restraints, as any animal would.

Then it was over. He struggled to his feet, and then, without any hesitation he mindlessly went through the rest of the ordeal. He was presented to the judge, he kissed Officer Stashak's shoes and thanking her in a weak desperate voice, he lined up for group photographs, and then lined up to face the crowd as the other criminals were sent back to work.

As he stood there trembling from the pain Arthur realized they had won; the Major's smug face said it all. Officer Stashak had broken his will in front of everyone including the hated guard and his two friends. That realization was almost as bad as the pain itself. After a few minutes he regained some self-control, wiped away the tears, and stood there trying to look defiant once again, failing miserably.

------------

Arthur wasn't sure if the camp was built on the opposite side of town from the park for that purpose or not, but the unfortunate fact was that a long walk awaited him and the other forty-four criminals. It had only taken fifteen minutes to walk from the barracks to the park but the situation was far different after the judicial switchings. They were chained together in five groups for the slow walk back through town. Though the guards wanted a quicker pace it was obvious that forty-five people in severe pain did not make for a well-organized march.

It did apparently make for good theater; it seemed that half the town came out to have a look at the beaten criminals. Arthur noticed that many parents even brought their children out to watch this pathetic parade pass by. School was out, he figured, so this could either be entertainment or perhaps a warning to scare their kids' straight. With eyes red and faces distorted in pain, the forty-five criminals that shuffled down the street were a pitiful sight. All the criminals that marched ahead of Arthur blended into a solid line of red and purple welts; all around he could hear the ragged breaths of those who were still unable to stop crying.

Arthur looked at the free people watching from roadside. The experience was part freak show, part zoo exhibit, with a bit of slave auction thrown in. He passed by two old men who casually discussed the welts on the passing criminals in the manner ranchers might talk about injured livestock. Further down the road an agitated woman in a white dress pointed and lectured a teenage boy: "This is what will happen to you if you don't..." On the front porch of a small yellow house a spindly old woman leaned forward from her chair and peered over her glasses at the line of passing criminals; with a look of contempt she spoke to her equally critical lady friend. A teenage girl briefly made eye contact with Arthur, and then shyly looked away. He watched two dark haired boys, perhaps eight or nine years old, taunt and laugh at the criminals near the front until their mother's scolding sent them scurrying off into a store. Arthur walked past a young man wearing foreign clothes and a backpack who crouched by the railroad tracks trying to get a new roll of film loaded into his camera. Though the strange experience of being viewed like this distracted from the pain, it was equally distressing in its own way.

After the excruciating walk back a guard noticed Arthur wasn't entering the barracks, "You there! You spend the day in the barracks; after supper you go back to the post." Arthur knew they didn't allow him inside the barracks out of pity; they just didn't want a worker sidelined with a heatstroke from exposure to the August sun. By the time he collapsed on the canvass cot Arthur knew he couldn't take any more.

Sometime later Arthur heard footfalls on the concrete floor. Any distraction from the throbbing pain was welcome, so he twisted his head in the direction of the noise. His red eyes stung from the salty sweat. Arthur focused on a figure wearing dark robes and a tall hat. Though it felt like he was dying, Arthur didn't expect them to send a priest.

He rose up on one elbow and turned toward the man in black. The priest wore sandals, a tall hat, and a plain black robe; the gray hair near his temples indicated he was a little older than he otherwise looked. The priest blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the dim barracks. He glanced at the eight criminals recovering in the barracks then the priest found the one he was looking for.

Arthur was not pleased to have another encounter with a Danubian official. Another chance to offend somebody, he grimly thought; they probably burn nonbelievers at the stake.

Though the priest's posture was relaxed his attention focused solely on Arthur. The priest spoke heavily accented English slow enough for Arthur to understand.

The man introduced himself as a member of the priesthood and a servant of the Danubian people. "I have traveled here," the priest began, "to meet with an American... a convicted criminal by the name of Arthur Liggett. You are he, are you not?"

"Yes sir, my name is Criminal number 885... I mean my name is Arthur Liggett." It was an uncomfortable feeling that washed over him then, he now thought of himself as a number.

The priest nodded and tapped his fingertips together while he paused, thinking. "Arthur, on behalf of the Danubian Church I request the opportunity to speak with you today. Do you agree to an interview?"

Not wanting to find out what they would do to him if he refused, Arthur consented.

"I am pleased that you give me some of your time. It is a great privilege to counsel and guide one who is undergoing such a difficult transformation." The priest seemed eager then. "In order to assess your... current state of mind I would like to ask you some questions."

Arthur felt strange lying face down on the cot while the priest talked to him, so he decided to get up with as little flexing as possible. The priest allowed him time to stand up and have a drink of water. Still, there was something deeply disturbing about being naked during an interview with a priest.

The priest, thankfully, was only interested in asking questions. Many questions concerned his motivations, his feelings toward people involved in his crimes, and several probed the relationships he had back in the US. Arthur answered in the most cautious and vague manner possible.

Several minutes later the frustrated priest shook his head. "I feel that you are deliberately trying to conceal your true thoughts. Why do you agree to an interview and then refuse to tell me anything I don't already know?"

Arthur was growing tired of this inquisition as well. "I'm cautious because every time I've been questioned by an official I get in more trouble. Two months ago I was punished for something I said and last month the same thing happened. So I would think that anyone could understand that I don't want my words used against me." The stressful day and the constant pain caused him to speak more harshly then he wanted to; strangely the priest looked pleased.

"It is good to hear the truth spoken. There is, however, no reason to be concerned. I am a servant of the Church and the people; you have nothing to fear from me or other members of the clergy. You may speak freely."

Arthur was not so easily convinced; but he knew about the prohibition on lying so he decided to use it to his advantage. "Is it true that nothing a criminal says to you or other members of the priesthood can be used against him?"

"Yes," the priest said. "That is correct."

Still not satisfied, Arthur continued. "If a criminal such as myself told you of a crime they committed would you report the crime to the police, a judge, prosecutors, spokespersons, or anyone else that would hold that person responsible?"

"No." The priest answered.

Arthur realized how odd he must sound but just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that some people aren't really out to get you.

After Arthur was convinced that the priest was not a threat they had a long discussion. It was actually good to speak to someone again and there were some questions Arthur really wanted to ask about the Church and Danubians in general.

Arthur had been through a very rough adjustment period. He had been pretty much alone, having to deal with a culture that he didn't understand at all. During his time in Rika Chorna, Spokesman Ralkliv was the only English speaker he knew, and Ralkliv had gotten awfully angry with some of Arthur's questions, especially those having to do with religion or the Danubian concept of personal honor. Then Arthur learned that spokespersons were part of the Ministry of Justice. From that point on, he'd been wary of asking Spokesman Ralkliv any questions at all. Better to keep one's mouth shut than to unknowingly admit to doing something illegal and get in even more trouble.

This priest, though, was patient and forgiving of any slights. Arthur had been curious for the longest time about the Danubian prohibitions against piercings or tattoos and why the police aren't supposed to draw blood during beatings. Arthur's best guess had been that Danubians feared evil spirits getting into their bodies through the wounds, but that, the priest explained, was not the case at all. It was, he said, a sinful act to damage the Creator's gift of the physical body (permanently at least).

Then, there was that word: dishonored. Arthur had been called 'dishonored' a lot. People were so touchy about that word. Spokesman Ralkliv was so irritated about that word, irritated because his client didn't seem the least bit concerned with being called that. To Arthur, it was a pretty tame insult. To Spokesman Ralkliv it was a word with great social significance to the Danubian people; something that went back thousands of years and now his client was treating the concept as though it was a novelty. After one such awkward conversation with Ralkliv, Arthur had decided to just not mention it again.

The priest was patient and calm in the way that Ralkliv wasn't. There were many aspects of Danubian society that he was curious about. Arthur learned more about Danubians in one hour's conversation than he had the previous three months, but eventually it was the priest's turn to ask questions.

The priest already knew an awful lot about him and didn't waste time asking about what was already publicly known. He was more focused on intentions and motivations than details. Arthur talked in a fairly open manner with the priest, which after a while; he thought maybe wasn't such a good idea. The man seemed to be getting increasingly distressed at Arthur's answers. The priest didn't approve at all when it came to Arthur's shifty 'live and let live' attitude when it came to moral and ethical matters. "You cannot think that deception is acceptable?" the shocked priest had finally asked.

The troublemaker in Arthur thought about getting all irascible; pointing out examples of deception that existed throughout the Creator's nature. Then he remembered that the priest had traveled all this way just to talk to him, a lowly criminal, an enemy spy, a man who was chained up like a dog every night, a man who went to the bathroom in a metal bucket. It would be rude to repay the priest's kindness with irritating snide remarks.

"No sir," Arthur lied. "I now see that it was wrong of me to lie in the past and I do regret it." His skin still burned and ached considerably. Physical pain and emotional pain produced about the same facial expression, Arthur hoped.

The priest then wanted to discuss the trouble with the girls and their drugs. He seemed especially concerned that Arthur had re-offended after just a month. Arthur tried to explain that he was just trying to keep the girls out of trouble, but the priest replied correctly that he was also trying to save himself. It seemed to Arthur that the priest considered the intent to deceive worse than the offense itself.

Arthur thought of something the priest said earlier. "Sir, you said something about me going through a transformation; I don't understand what you mean by that."

He nodded. "Foreigners sometimes don't understand but the criminal justice system here is not only designed to punish offenses and deter bad behavior. The suffering that the criminal must endure is necessary to reorient the damaged souls of the offender." 

Arthur didn't think he heard the priest correctly. "So you're saying there's a religious justification for all these beatings?"

"Yes, the physical pain and mental suffering a criminal experiences is critical to the process of reform, so he may find the Correct Path in Life."

Arthur paused and considered the priests words. Did they think his soul was concentrated in the back half of his body? 

"You think something's wrong with my soul?" Arthur appeared concerned.

"Yes, your actions were motivated out of greed and pride. It has brought destruction to your life and those around you." The priest explained: "There is hope for you, however, through suffering you may reflect on the poor choices you made in your life, and then you may learn to turn away from the false ideas promoted by the Destroyer and follow the Correct Path in Life that the Creator has set out for you." The priest asked: "Arthur, may I have your hands?"




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 07



Arthur figured the priest meant 'would you give me a hand?' "Um, sure, what do you need?"

The priest put out his own hands palm up. "Your hands."

Arthur put out his hands. He figured the man was going to read his palms. He hadn't had that done in years, hadn't been to a carnival in years either. Instead of reading his lifeline, the priest gripped his hands, squeezing each of Arthur's hands in his.

Arthur watched with fascination, was this some kind of secret handshake? The priest closed his eyes and held an intense expression. It went on for several seconds; Arthur wasn't sure if he was supposed to do something or not so he just stayed silent, watched and waited... the priest would eventually get tired and let go.

When the priest did let go he looked down for a time, as if gathering his thoughts. "Arthur," the priest said. "Sometimes the Creator blesses us with visions... communicates to us so that we might do the Creator's will, the nature of such visions are often difficult to understand, it may require prayer and meditation and patience."

"Did... you see anything?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, I believe I saw you. You swam in cold swift water with a crystalline night sky overhead... and there was a snake coiled around your leg. What it means..." The priest said. "I cannot say, perhaps this represents something significant to you?"

Arthur expected better fortune telling, especially after all the anticipation. Psychics are supposed to tell you about finding your true love or how you'll get rich but this man didn't say a thing about sex or money, and what was the deal with that snake? Ridiculous, Arthur thought, snakes don't live in cold water.

"No sir," Arthur said, "nothing comes to mind."

The priest was preparing to end his visit. "Perhaps when you get back to Rika Chorna, you could visit the Church. One of the clergy there would be pleased to counsel you.

"I'll do that." Arthur nodded. "Thank you for visiting me sir; you've given me a great deal to think about."

The priest left and Arthur did have a thought, not one the priest would have appreciated, but a thought nonetheless. Perhaps, Arthur speculated, he could use their church to his benefit. He could act devout as the next guy. The first step would be to show interest toward their faith, and then sometime later he could have his "come to Jesus moment" ask for forgiveness and put on a good show.

An American nonbeliever converting to their faith and worshiping... whatever it is they worship might be a sign of this soul reorientation the priest kept going on about. He thought he might be able to use this show of faith to convince people that he's not such a villain after all, maybe even help his legal situation. Prisoners back in the US were sometimes paroled early after finding religion; it's possible, Arthur thought, that the same thing might work in Danubia. It was worth a try anyway. With a vague plan formulating in his head Arthur carefully lowered himself back down on his cot and rested.



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 08



Chapter 8: Witches Don't Always Float

Arthur drove north on Highway 68 with both windows rolled down. The glue that he used on the ceiling panel came loose after only a week, so during the long drive home the tan fabric flapped vigorously against the top of his head. He smelled like Deep-Woods Off and sweat so even the hot humid fresh air was welcome. When Arthur was halfway home a NWS alert came over his radio; the mechanical voice warned that a funnel cloud was spotted five miles to the southwest and the town he was now entering was in the projected path.

St. James looked nearly empty though it was really loud with the tornado sirens activated. Arthur pulled off the road and parked by the gas pumps of a Shell station two miles south of I-44. Several people were taking cover inside; one frantic clerk opened the door when she saw him. "Hey!" she waved. "There's a damned tornado coming, get inside!"

"No thanks," Arthur stepped out of his old Dodge pickup and casually looked up at the darkening clouds. "Don't want to miss anything." 

The woman made a disparaging remark about Arthur's head and Arthur walked to a traffic island where he had a good view. For a couple minutes nothing happened, except the sky took on a yellowish-green hue and the wind gusted.

Arthur turned to see a paper bag skid across the pavement and hit the front of the store. When he looked back up it was there. Clouds hundreds of feet across spun directly overhead. It was a beautiful bizarre thing: an inverted whirlpool of blue-gray swirls and wisps of delicate white clouds that orbited lower. The quickness of its appearance made Arthur wonder how fast these things can drop to the ground. Seconds later, sheets of heavy rain blew sideways into the parking lot; obscuring the view- the fascinating thing was gone.

The windy night had made Arthur daydream about that first experience with a tornado four years earlier. A warm humid southwest breeze had blown all throughout the night, by morning the wind blew at exactly the right speed to make the coils of razor wire vibrate in resonance. Arthur had been awake for several minutes when a young guard came to unchain him at five o'clock; the guard was probably four years younger than Arthur, but he had the uniform and the power. Having to kneel down to every nineteen-year old guard was just one of many indignities he had come to expect during his stay at the camp. The Major had apparently instructed her guards to watch him for insolent behavior. Kneeling wrong, standing wrong, and many other ridiculous reasons were used to justify a slap, a kick, or a few strikes of the switch.

"Get up on your knees criminal # 88588." Arthur did as he was told so the guard could unlock the chain from a convenient height.

The guard retrieved his key ring but he wanted to have some fun first. He grabbed a piece of chain half a meter from Arthur's neck and yanked forward. Arthur caught himself and got back into position just in time to be slapped across the face. It wasn't a very hard blow; the guard just wanted to humiliate the American criminal not make his own hand sting.

"Stupid dishonored criminal; are you trying to disrespect me?" The guard showed the back of his hand, threatening to strike again.

"No sir." Arthur knew that if he just stayed calm the guard would quickly grow bored with him; he was only pretending to be angry. Arthur waited obediently on his knees while the guard unlocked the chain.

"Good," the guard said. "A dishonored criminal like you has to learn his place. Go join your work crew."

By the time breakfast was over the rumble of thunder was constant to the west. The criminal work crews lined up near the gatehouse, but the guards made no move to chain them together or send them off to work. The winds died down as the storm approached and the light permeating the thick clouds overhead changed noticeably to a peculiar yellowish hue. From what Arthur had seen Danubia's weather was kind of dull compared to the central US, but this morning with the high humidity and warm air, conditions looked favorable for a storm. The guards nervously watched as the sky darkened. The work crews were sent back to their barracks after a close lightning strike.

The Danubian criminals gathered in several groups and Arthur stood alone by a window. They had been unfriendly even before the restrictions, perhaps they didn't like foreigners, or it could be something to do with his crime, though, Arthur thought, all of them must have also committed crimes. If he was unpopular before the restrictions, now he was radioactive, the other criminals didn't even look at him anymore.

A powerful gust slammed the front door shut, something landed on the roof with a bang, and the power to the barrack's two dangling light bulbs went out. Arthur observed the storm from the window by his cot. The town's storm drains and culverts were clearly overwhelmed by the heavy rainfall; the central street became a small river that carried trashcans, boxes, crates and all the other flotsam of the town's existence down slope to the east.

Another storm followed the first, with less wind but plenty of lightning strikes and torrential rain. The stream running down the central avenue covered the train tracks and lapped at the sidewalk. Townspeople worked in the pouring rain to keep floodwaters out of their stores; they stacked rows of sandbags a meter high against the storefronts.

Arthur was not the least bit sympathetic, though he tried to not let any of the Danubian criminals see him smile. When a guard slipped and comically tumbled down the stream with the other debris, he couldn't help but chuckle. "The Destroyer must be pretty pissed off today." Arthur remarked in English. There was a commotion near the back door as a rivulet of muddy water meandered across the barrack's concrete floor. What the Danubian criminals were so upset about was a mystery, Arthur certainly didn't care if the canvas cot that he wasn't allowed to sleep on anyway got wet or if his buckets floated around a bit.

A third hour of heavy rains fell. The storms were proving disastrous for Novo Sumi Ris but for Criminal # 88588 the flood was an interesting and deeply satisfying event. Floodwaters overtopped the sandbags and inundated the stores along the central street as the shop owners' feeble attempts to stop nature's power failed. Those townspeople who had stared at him and enjoyed his pain and humiliation during that long march back through town following the switchings; those people, Arthur coldly observed, were now having their own desperate struggles.

He stood in knee-deep water by the window and watched large pieces of lumber from broken up houses float up against the perimeter fence; in the distance a motorboat struggled upstream toward a flooded house. The rain slacked up just enough to see the attempted rescue a couple hundred meters up the main road. An old woman waved for help from the attic window of a small yellow house, her porch and most of the first floor was now underwater. "You're not looking so proud now, are you granny?" Arthur spoke in her general direction, while reveling in the chaos outside.

----------

Late that afternoon a miserable guard waded into the barracks and announced the news that the levies east of town were in danger of collapse. All the criminal work crews mobilized in a desperate effort to shore up the levy system. Over two hundred criminals gathered near the gatehouse to put on their boots and gloves; Arthur reached underwater and tightened up his boots' laces, wrapping them around his ankle twice and tying a firm knot. Though he wasn't the least bit interested in helping the townspeople who regarded him as little more than a slave, Arthur was eager to see the stream at its flooded best.

The warden stepped out on his porch and gave a speech that epitomized leadership: he would coordinate efforts from his office while his subordinates would go out in the storm and take charge of individual work crews.

The Ministry of Public Works had several four-wheel drive trucks that were kept at a garage set on higher ground. The guards loaded truckload after truckload of criminals into the beds and drove off toward the worksites spaced along the threatened levies. Arthur and fifteen other criminals loaded up and were driven along a rough dirt road that paralleled the stream. The truck stopped on a curve in the road about five meters above the flood-waters and one of the foremen that Arthur recognized stepped out of the passenger side and took charge.

The earthen levy was pathetically small compared to the raging stream it was expected to contain, three meters of unconsolidated sediment high and six wide. A fresh bundle of sand bags lay in the mud and the foreman was impatient to get them filled.

Arthur and the other fifteen criminals filled and stacked sandbags on top of a section of levy for the rest of the day and into the night. The rain slowed occasionally but it never stopped.

Arthur heaved another sand bag on his sore shoulder and waded toward the embankment. The foreman's hoarse voice demanded that he move faster. Arthur didn't speed up; like everyone else, he was simply too exhausted. The effort seemed futile anyway. Even after hours of work the floodwater lapped at the levy's top and multiple channels eroded though. The foreman would never admit it, but it was over, the whole section was about to breach. Arthur crawled up the levy's north slope and threw his sandbag on top of the pile; then he waded back through waist-deep water to repeat the same futile action. Looking around, he wondered how many of the Danubian criminals could swim.

Headlights illuminated torrential rain as Arthur heaved another soggy bag on his shoulder. The vehicle approached quickly; too quickly to make the curve on a flooded dirt road. Arthur dropped the bag and stepped to the side as one of the guard's off-road trucks slid off the road and made an impressive splash in the backed up waters behind the levy. The engine died when the water was up past the headlights.

An argument was already taking place as the driver's door sloshed open; the irate female voice coming from the passenger seat was one Arthur recognized instantly. He found the discarded sandbag in the muddy water and turned toward levy quickly.

"You... Criminal # 88588. Come here, now!" Major Drazetka threw the passenger door open and shined a flashlight in Arthur's eyes. She stepped out into water above her knees and grasped the bed to pull herself up to the muddy but still un-flooded ground. With a furious scowl on her face she pointed to the ground. Arthur realized with some disbelief that she was actually going to make him kneel down to her in the mud during a thunderstorm. He lowered the sandbag to the ground and reluctantly got into position in front of the Major, then a foot on the back of his head pressed his face further into the soft mud.

"When a guard gives you an order you will comply without hesitation!" She shouted. "Is that clear criminal # 88588?"

Arthur struggled to speak with his face half submerged. "Yes officer."

She pushed off with her foot and moved to his side. "You will obey! Do you think you can disrespect me because you're an American?" Arthur felt the impact of her switch several times across his buttocks and thighs, and then the Major rapidly laid down three burning stripes across his left side. There was no aiming or control to the beating, the Major was simply furious and taking her frustrations out on an unlucky target. "Disobedience will gain you nothing but pain! You and those American girls are property." Arthur felt four more wild strikes across his ribs and then she paused, breathing heavy. "You are nothing but a dishonored criminal, do you understand me?" She punctuated the last word with another swing of the switch. "Answer me!"

Arthur struggled to take a breath and answer the guard. "Yes... officer."

"Stay in position and wait, I had better not see you move!" Major Drazetka walked back toward the stranded truck and shouted a series of insults at her hapless driver.

The Major left her underling with the stranded vehicle while she dealt with the matter of the cargo. They were delivering bundles of empty sandbags to a crew working further down the creek, and with the truck sidelined she decided that a criminal could be put to use. With a flashlight in her right hand, Major Drazetka ordered Arthur to unload one of the twenty-kilogram bundles. After minutes spent kneeling he finally was able to stand again, he wiped the mud away from his eyes and then got the bundle of sandbags balanced on a shoulder.

The primitive dirt road that paralleled the stream ran precariously close to the bank, so Arthur had to be careful moving as fast as the Major demanded. She focused her flashlight mostly in front of her own feet; Arthur relied on the frequent flashes of lightning to find his way down the road. After a few minutes he shifted the load to his right shoulder, paused briefly and then continued forward but instead of stepping on the road his foot went into an unseen gully. He stumbled forward and the bundle slipped from his arms and rolled toward the bank.

Major Drazetka's flashlight beam found him almost immediately. The sounds of the storm obscured her shouted words but from the way she reached toward her belt her intentions were clear. Arthur scrambled in the direction that the package had tumbled. The Major ripped the switch out of her belt and charged forward, she was so furious that she didn't even bother to point her flashlight toward the ground. Lightning struck a tree just across the creek, Arthur looked back again, and the Major was gone. A beam of light shined up from the flooded stream. Arthur looked over the edge. "That bitch stepped off the fucking bank." The euphoria was brief. "Oh shit, no witnesses! If she drowns they'll think I killed her!"

Grappling muddy tree roots and brambles Arthur lowered himself three meters down to where the flashlight fell. He dropped with a splash onto a submerged rock ledge in knee-deep swift water and tugged the flashlight from a tangle of roots. Arthur searched the water downstream; twenty meters away there was a large willow hanging over on its side in the swift current, and in the middle of the tangled mass of half submerged branches an arm moved and a face was visible in the churning water. The tree twisted and surged in the swift current; the Major's head was sometimes above and sometimes below water level as her body moved with the tree limbs that trapped her.

Arthur realized there wasn't much time to make a rescue attempt. He jumped in and let the current carry him downstream toward the tree's thick roots that clung like gnarled fingers on to the vertical bank. The tree shuddered and jerked underfoot as Arthur climbed out on two of the willow's many trunks, four meters from the bank he got to where the Major was trapped. She was moving but the surge of the current kept her head underwater for several seconds at a time. Arthur put a foot on each of the larger trunks and reached down and grasped her arm; he pulled with all his strength but the force of the current was too much. Arthur realized that since most of her body was swept underneath the main mass of the tree there was no way he could pull her up. A decision had to be made. If she couldn't go up, Arthur reasoned, she would have to go down. The water looked fairly deep below the willow, and if the tree limbs weren't too crowded, a person might be able to pass underneath. However, if it was choked with submerged limbs the Major would drown, but Arthur was willing to take that risk.

Major Drazetka stubbornly held on to the tangle of tree limbs and wouldn't let go. Arthur attempted to pry her hands loose one at a time but with the limbs twisting, the water surging and the major struggling to drown him too he found it was hopeless. Then he had an idea, one of the larger trunks was about a meter and a half above where the major was stuck. 

Unencumbered by any knowledge of standard water rescue techniques Arthur climbed up the trunk above the major, got to his feet and waited for the tree to surge upward again. As soon as the major's head resurfaced Arthur jumped and landed both feet on her shoulders, with the full force of his weight hitting her at once she plunged down under the water and was swept beneath the tree. Arthur climbed back on top and retrieved the flashlight. He was eager to see if he had just committed a rescue or a homicide; five meters away an arm surfaced. He dove in, grabbed hold of her and swam.

Fifty meters downstream Arthur managed to drag her into a side channel where the water was backed up and not so swift, he pushed her body on top of some tree roots and then he heard her cough. Rescue it was. Arthur hauled himself up through the vines and brambles that covered the steep bank, and then reached back and dragged the groaning, coughing Major behind him. They moved inches at a time until the slope lessened and Arthur was able to stand and grapple the Major over his shoulders and then carry her out near the road. Just as he reached the road, Arthur's foot slipped in the mud and they collapsed in a heap. 

The flashlight was lost somewhere in the flooded stream but frequent lightning lit the scene well enough. Major Drazetka had half her shirt ripped off, her hat and left shoe were missing, and like Arthur she was coated in the sticky red clay from being dragged up the bank. She had some obvious injuries. There were several bleeding cuts and scrapes across her face and arms and the major clutched her shoulder and chest near the collarbone. He wondered if she knew how she got that particular injury. After a minute's rest Arthur got to his feet and looked down at the disheveled major who lay there in the mud retching, groaning, and coughing up water. "That's odd," he said in English. "I thought witches floated."

Minutes passed before the major recovered enough to struggle to her knees. Arthur thought this was his chance to gain something from the whole misadventure. He organized what he wanted to say in his mind and then, in his still rough Danubian he slowly and clearly addressed the guard.

"Major Drazetka, it must be an embarrassment to be rescued by a dishonored criminal. What will the other guards think? You walk right off the bank because you weren't paying attention, then you panicked and got trapped in tree limbs." Arthur tried mightily to water down the sarcastic tone. "Now you owe your life to me. But no one has to find out, do they? We could make a deal."

Major Drazetka spit out some of the blood that had collected from her torn upper lip and spoke in a hoarse voice: "And what would you want?"

"Drop the restrictions on me and the two American girls. Make sure we're treated like everyone else."

"A dishonored animal forcing me to... Aaghh" She was in obvious pain as she turned toward Arthur. "I should kill you for trying to manipulate me!" She struggled into a standing position, then gave Arthur a look of pure malice and spit out more blood at his feet. "Very well, spy. You have your deal and you had better keep it." She had another fierce bout of coughing while clasping her injured shoulder and chest. "If... If anyone ever hears of this I will bring that confession of yours before a judge and make you pay!"

Arthur felt a thrill, he had won; he forced the major to do what he wanted. It was also a relief; he wasn't sure what he was going to do if she had refused. Throw her back in? It would have been tempting. As it was, Arthur was content to watch Major Drazetka struggle along the muddy road; he followed a couple paces behind.

She wasn't doing so well; the major gasped with every step, limping as sharp gravels pressed the bottom of her bare left foot. A couple times she slipped and fell. It must have been agonizing as broken bones moved from the impact. She would stay on the ground a while, almost silent but Arthur could hear her quick breaths, hear the haughty major groan and cry from the pain. She never asked and Arthur never offered to help, instead he stayed back and watched her struggle, enjoying every minute. 




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 08



Though countless properties were being destroyed in the fury of the storm, and they walked back through hail and driving rain, Arthur thought it was one of the greatest nights of his life. Not only had he gotten the restrictions removed but also during the rescue he had apparently broken at least one of the major's collarbones. She wouldn't feel like beating anyone for several months.

---------

The floodwaters dropped as fast as they had risen; the stream was back within its banks just four hours after the crest. At first light the criminals were put to work clearing storm debris off the roads and helping residents who requested assistance. Arthur and a few others were ordered to help the homeowners of a fairly large multi-family house that had an enormous pile of storm debris dumped against the front porch. The men were gone but two women and five kids were there, two of the older ones even assisted the criminal work crew with the cleanup. They had cleared most of the debris by noon when a group of female criminals came by to deliver lunch.

Arthur stood in the shade on the north side of the house and ate his lunch alone. As he ate he became aware that the two oldest kids were staring at him curiously and whispering. It was the boy and girl, probably siblings, who had helped some with the cleanup. Arthur turned toward the two children who had moved even closer and continued to look curiously in his direction. "Go ahead, ask your questions."

"We were wondering why you're standing over here eating all alone." The girl ventured.

"I'm eating alone because the guards don't allow me to talk to other criminals." In yet another humiliating episode Arthur had to explain himself to the eleven or twelve year old children. "As for why I'm standing... it's not real comfortable to sit down yet."

"Why do you talk like that?" The boy tilted his head to the side like a curious dog.

"I'm an American; I've been here since May. I'm trying to learn your language but it's difficult."

"I've never even seen an American before." The surprised girl exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Arthur wished these children would just go away. "I was arrested after my employer and I broke into a building to steal data from a computer in Rika Chorna."

The girl's eyes got wide. "You're the American spy that was on TV? You're Lik-kikt?"

Arthur really didn't expect to be recognized. "Yes, but my name is pronounced 'Lig-Gett'; everyone calls me Criminal # 88588 now. So you heard about me on TV?"

"Yeah, they showed the trial twice and they talked about you and that dead guy a lot on news shows."

"So, what did they say about me on TV?"

She glanced up remembering. "Um... they said you were an enemy and a spy, and... that you wanted to steal our stuff, and Um... that you would kill people for money, and they said you were corrupted by the Destroyer, and too dangerous to let loose..."

The boy interrupted: "My dad thought they should just shoot you!"

Arthur had that sinking feeling in his stomach. "Do you think most people know who I am? I mean... your friends, your neighbors; the people in this town."

"Yeah, you're famous. Everyone knows about the American spy."

Infamous would be the right word. Arthur was beginning to understand why even the Danubian criminals had been so unfriendly. "Thanks for the information kids, but your mother probably wouldn't like you talking to me would she?"

"I guess not," the girl said, "but you're not that dangerous any more are you?"

"No... No, I suppose I'm not." Arthur excused himself by saying that he had to get back to work.

The work crews returned to camp late in the afternoon. The barracks had a band of drying red mud up three feet on the sheet metal wall and the floor was covered in silt. Arthur used his bucket, which had filled up with rainwater and hadn't floated away, to scrub the sticky red clay off his skin; before he was completely finished there was the announcement he was waiting for. "Criminal # 88588, you are to report to the warden's office immediately." The electricity was back on again so the announcement came over the P/A system.

"Stand up Criminal # 88588." The warden had the manner of a disinterested bureaucrat; he turned in his swiveling office chair and pulled a yellow folder from a shelf behind his desk. He smoothed down his gray mustache with the thumb and index finger of his left hand, before opening the folder and looking to Arthur. "This is your file, we organize these by conduct, and you have a yellow folder because of the disciplinary violations you've had here at the camp." The warden took a drink of coffee from a gray mug with the Public Works seal on the side. "My second in command, Major Drazetka, spoke to me this morning about you. She believes that you have reformed your behavior, and should be returned to normal status here at the camp. Is that the case Criminal # 88588, will you follow all the rules and regulations, and respect the authority of my guards?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, sign this form. It certifies that you have met the conditions of the disciplinary action, and that you pledge to not violate any other regulations for your remaining time at this camp."

Though his spoken Danubian had improved considerably, Arthur hadn't learned to read or write Danubian any better in the past two months. Arthur pointed to the three blanks at the bottom of the form. "Ya negat rozumigukt." (I don't understand). The warden explained: official name, former family name or given name, and date. Criminal # 88588 filled in the blanks and the warden dismissed him.

Arthur finished washing the mud out of his hair and then went with the other criminals to eat supper. It would be good to sit down at the table and eat like a human being again. He soon reconsidered; the judicial switching had only been a few days earlier. Arthur decided that standing by a table like a human being is pretty good too though.

About an hour later Arthur spotted some of the female criminals, they had been busy preparing meals and then cleaning up the mess hall. The Major had agreed to return Samantha and Laura to normal status as well and Arthur was anxious to see them. A chain link fence on the east side of the mess hall separated the two female barracks from the rest of the complex, though during the day the gate in between was usually open.

Arthur and about half the other male criminals waited by the gate for the women to arrive. He wondered what it would be like to date a Danubian criminal. Back in the US every girl he had ever gone out with made him wait; wait for her to get dressed, or get her makeup on, or get her hair fixed. Even without being allowed clothes or makeup and hair already braided, Arthur decided, being women they would come up with some other delay, it was a law of nature. He almost didn't recognize the two American girls; their hair was in braids instead of the ponytails they used to wear.

"Hey... nice braids, you two look older, more sophisticated."

Samantha smiled. "The other women kept telling us how important it was to have our hair styled right but the major wouldn't allow it after we got in trouble. Early this morning the warden called us into his office and said that the restrictions were lifted and so a couple girls braided it for us before lunch. I guess your restrictions are lifted too huh?"

"Yeah, I'm reformed too." Arthur said. "I decided to tone down the corrupting influence, for a while at least. The warden must have noticed all my good behavior. I kept my buckets immaculately clean and the chain in good condition."

"Arthur," Laura excitedly whispered. "Did you hear that Major Drazetka's gone? They loaded her up in an ambulance last night. They said she fell or something and was hurt pretty bad. Too bad it didn't break her stupid neck."

"Yeah, I heard something about that."

"Oh my god," Samantha had noticed all the new welts across Arthur's left side. "What happened to you?"

"I had a run in with a guard who had a bad temper and even worse aim." Arthur shook his head disapprovingly. "I guess there's just no attention to detail anymore."

----------

Following the flood the three Americans were treated like ordinary criminals, which was harsh by most standards, but better than before. The work crews spent their days repairing the extensive damage done by the storm. They patched roads, removed storm debris, and rebuilt all the breached sections of the levy system. Arthur and the girls met every day after supper in the usual spot; while they met under the pretense of more language lessons it was mostly just to talk.

After an especially rough day in late August Arthur went to meet the girls. They had been waiting for him under the shade tree. As he approached he really hoped they wouldn't notice his condition but of course they did.

Samantha taunted: "Well it's about time the teacher shows up, I'm going to have my..." Samantha stopped in mid-sentence. "Damn, Arthur!" Arthur's cheek was starting to bruise and there was a cut on his upper lip. "What did they do?"

"Oh my god..." Laura gasped at the sight of all the red swollen lines crisscrossing Arthur's back and shoulders. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Arthur looked away for a second and forced a smile. "Don't worry about it, a guard just got a little angry at me.

Samantha cringed. "Does that hurt? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Arthur assured them. "I'm alright... really."

"What happened?" Laura asked.

"Oh, there's not much to tell... just got slapped around some but never mind that." Arthur sat down and tried to get comfortable. "There's something we need to talk about."

Thin limber Samantha sat upright with her legs tightly folded and crossed, and Laura reclined against the tree with her legs outstretched, Arthur could never seem to find a comfortable way to rest and fidgeted constantly.

"You know," Arthur began, "last night, I was thinking about how much time we've got left. It's nineteen days for you and twenty for me. This stuff's going to be over with soon and we can go back to Rika Chorna. It's going to be a lot better when we get our custody transferred back to Spokesman Ralkliv.

Arthur scratched at the side of his head. "There's one thing I'm concerned about though. I've thought about our situation at this camp, especially everything that's happened since we got in trouble on the fourth. I don't know for sure but I think that some of the abuse went well beyond what the law allows in the treatment of criminals. From the way the Major reacted I figure that the guards don't want news of what goes on here getting out. I just don't know, but we should think carefully about our options and come to a decision."

"What do you mean?" Samantha asked.

"Well," Arthur explained. "I only see two options. The first is that once we get back to Rika Chorna we could go to Spokesman Ralkliv and tell him everything that happened to us. And the second option is that we keep it secret."

"Maybe it could help us get out!" Laura said. "Like, reduce our sentences or something."

Samantha was also enthusiastic at the thought of release. "Yeah, like... the US government could do something or the UN, you know, could pressure them to let us go."

"Yeah, well... I want that too," Arthur said. "But we've got to be pragmatic here. We have some serious credibility problems. I mean... to Danubians I'm the corrupt enemy spy and you two are the spoiled American teenagers that sneaked illegal drugs into their pure and wholesome country. Who would a judge believe? On one side there would be several respected officials of the Ministry of Public Works," Arthur gestured, "and on the other side there would be us."

"But what about Spokesman Ralkliv," Laura asked, "he would be on our side, right?"

"Not necessarily... see, spokespersons are not our lawyers, there's no confidentiality. They're part of the Ministry of Justice, so any information you volunteer may as well be said to a cop."

Arthur sighed and stayed silent a while, thinking. "I'm also skittish about telling Ralkliv because of that whole Danubian honor code thing." Arthur made a baffled expression. "They've got the craziest ideas. I mean, at one point, Spokesman Ralkliv actually thought that I would rather be beaten than lose honor by telling a lie, and that's not the case at all! By the way, don't tell him that like I did." Arthur shrugged. "He means well but... it's just that we very different priorities."

"See," Arthur said. "If we tell him everything, I'm afraid that he might set something in motion that we're going to regret. I'm not particularly interested in defending my honor if it means more beatings or chains on my neck. If we make accusations without any evidence we might be the ones who get in trouble; charged with slander, perjury and who knows what else."

Samantha looked fragile as glass. "You think we should keep it secret?"

"Yeah." Arthur felt uncomfortable bringing up the next part. "There's something else you don't know about. After that confrontation with the Major, she had me taken to one of the back rooms in her office and she... she wanted to force me to admit my guilt. I tried to... I mean... I..."

Arthur swallowed hard and looked down. "She made me sign a statement. It said that I had you two spread lies about the guards and the camp. I'm sorry." Arthur started to say something more but stopped. He remained quiet, staring down miserably; now they knew how weak he really was. 

"Arthur." Samantha had tears in her eyes. "Arthur, look at me. It is not your fault."

"We heard it that night," Laura's voice quivered. "And I saw you," Laura wiped tears from her eyes. "You were coming back from work... they hurt you so bad." Laura doubled over crying hard, Samantha leaned and hugged her friend tight, sobbing pitifully as well.

All the emotion Arthur normally set aside broke through then. He couldn't stop it this time, Arthur sat with his face buried in his hands and cried too.

Arthur realized how fortunate he was to have friends that stood by him. He thought of some of his friends back home too, at his old job, or playing baseball on Saturdays. He cried about the old life he had enjoyed: his refrigerator full of cold beer, his comfortable tennis shoes, that cool office chair he found beside the highway. He remembered trying to sneak into his apartment without exciting his dog, watching TV shows, playing video games, and eating potato chips.

He remembered his old girlfriend Charlotte leaning against her beat up green Nova with a cigarette in her fingers. Arthur thought about the black guy next door who always wore a leather jacket with no shirt who let Arthur borrow his motorcycle a couple times. It had been a great life before his arrest and he threw it all away for money.

Then Arthur thought of his sister. Strangely, he remembered something that happened many years ago, when they were both in the same school: it was one of their pranks gone terribly wrong. Who knew the old wild animal in the locker trick would be so hard to pull off? When Arthur closed his eyes he could still see his twelve-year old sister running down the school's hallway trying to corral a terrified groundhog.

Arthur laughed even as he cried. Tee would find this so funny, her big brother sitting naked on the ground, crying like a baby. There'd be no end to her jokes. He missed his goofy sister. Would he ever see her again? Arthur cried about that too. 

Though not one of Arthur's proudest moments, he knew it wasn't unusual at all. Nearly every night, when the barracks was quiet and still, there was the underlying sound of quick ragged breaths, muffled cries of the desperate and lonely. Arthur had seen big, tough looking, grown men sit on the ends of their cots doubled over, weeping miserably into their hands. Some criminals curled up tight on their sides like scared children hiding from the world, weeping until they fell asleep. They tried to be quiet but everyone knew. It was so commonplace that Arthur didn't pay much attention to it anymore, slept right through it, just another noise you heard at night, like crickets in the grass.

When Arthur regained some self-control he refocused on the point he had been trying to make. It took a few more minutes for the girls to stop crying.

"So," Arthur began the awkward transition from bawling to business. "Everything's out there now, and we have a decision to make, in the next couple weeks anyway."

Laura folded her arms, pulling her knees in tight, looking down sadly. "So you don't want us to tell the truth, I don't know... what if they catch us?"

"I'm not asking you to lie," Arthur said. "Just don't volunteer any information that might be used against you. We're foreigners who haven't been here long. It's plausible that we wouldn't know that the guards crossed the line. We'll be out of this camp in less than three weeks. If we just keep our mouths shut and don't get into any more trouble our lives will improve. It has to get better doesn't it? You're what 18?"

Laura nodded and Samantha shook her head. "I turned 19 in April."

"Then you'll be released when you're 21 and 22, then you can go back to the US and start your life again. Survive these three years and then you can leave. I just don't want you to risk having your sentences lengthened. If you decide to report everything to Ralkliv I'll stand by you, but I just think that there's way too much to lose and nothing to gain from making those charges. Think about it, okay?"

The girls nodded and then excused themselves to go back to the women's barracks. Arthur sat alone beneath the big oak tree and wondered if it was right to try and keep the girls silent about the abuse they had suffered. He couldn't tell them about the agreement he made with Major Drazetka. The Major would hold the confession over his head to make sure he kept his word, but that also meant that the document wouldn't be used against him, unless they tried to challenge the guards. It was best to simply move on; Arthur didn't believe in moral victories anyway, those were just defeats by another name.

---------

The next evening Laura left class early, supposedly to go rest, but maybe to spend some time over at the fence that separated the men's and women's' compound. Samantha had her suspicions that her dark haired friend enjoyed all the attention she was getting from the Danubian men, perhaps one in particular.

Now that he and Samantha were alone Arthur unlaced his left work boot and took out a small flat object wrapped in cloth. "I wanted to show you something."

Samantha tilted her head curiously. "Why are you whispering? Nobody here knows English."

"Um... It seemed appropriate," Arthur shrugged. "I guess this is one of those sharing a secret type of things."

"A secret?" Samantha's eyes glowed with interest. "Ooh, tell me!"

Arthur looked around dramatically then resumed whispering. "Today I found this rock, one small enough to sneak out." Arthur unwrapped it and held out his hand. "Check it out!"

Samantha took the flat gray stone, three inches long. "Kinda looks like Idaho."

Arthur waved his hand. "No, the other side!"

"Oh... It's a... a fossil?"

Arthur pointed to the shiny black part. "Trilobite. That's the cephalon, its head... see the eyes? There's the thorax, and the pygidium, the rear end."

" Cooool." Samantha held it close, examining it carefully.

"Keep it," Arthur said. "I want you to have it."

"Really?" Samantha grinned. "Awesome... but where'd you get it?"

Arthur pointed a thumb backwards. "There's this outcrop beside the railroad track where we worked the last few days; you should see it... it's just full of fossils. I look through it every once in a while when I get the chance." Arthur shrugged. "I tried to sneak a bigger rock out yesterday but one of the guards saw I had something in my hand. It was that tall skinny guy with the thick glasses... that dude doesn't miss a thing.




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 08



It was quitting time and we were all lined up for that stupid chain. I was down on my knees and he walked behind me and stopped. Said something like: 'Criminal, what are you holding? Show me!' so I opened my hand and he starts yelling: 'Drop the weapon!' So I say: 'I don't Have a weapon!' in a tone he really didn't appreciate."

"Oh my god!" Samantha exclaimed. "What happened?"

"Well, I guess the guards wanted to make an example of me; they put handcuffs on me and threw a chain over a tree limb and hoisted my arms up over my head till I was on tiptoes. Then they gave me a good old-fashioned whipping while everyone watched. So," Arthur said casually. "That's why I was late yesterday."

Samantha cradled the rock in her hand, running a finger over the fossil, and then she stepped close and grabbed his hand. Samantha tugged Arthur behind the tree trunk for a lengthy and daring kiss.

Samantha opened her eyes, licked her lips, smiled mischievously and walked away, but not before glancing back. "Tomorrow, Spy boy."

"Same time, same place." Arthur grinned exuberantly. "Just don't kill any guards with that trilobite, okay?"

Arthur retied his laces and dusted off the dirt that had adhered to his skin while he'd been sitting on the ground. Then he caught a glance of Samantha, fifty meters away going through the gate into the women's section; she paused to look in his direction one last time before hurrying inside the barracks.

Arthur had the strangest thought. "Am I the bad boy? Me? Arthur Liggett? How the hell did that happen?"



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 09



Chapter 9: Three Awkward Dinners

Criminal work crew 6 was treated surprisingly well during their last week. Breaks were longer and more frequent, workdays went from twelve hours down to ten, and not one of the crew was struck in the last seven days.

One of the guards said that this week of good treatment was meant to show the warden's appreciation for all the hard work the criminals had done in service to their country. Arthur wondered if anyone was gullible enough to believe that explanation. Regardless, this easy last week had its effect; he was feeling better and most of the welts and bruises across his shoulders faded away.

Arthur had never been so glad to board a bus as he was on Thursday morning, the tenth of September. He sat down by the window and like most of the others he turned to watch Novo Sumi Ris recede in the distance as the bus traveled east. The Danubian criminals were ecstatic to be leaving the camp, there were so many conversations going on that it was difficult to understand any of their fast paced words. Arthur didn't want to talk anyway; it was nice to simply look out the window and watch the countryside roll by. Thirty minutes later he stepped off the bus in front of the Ministry of Public Works, after a brief processing he was handed a stamped document and released.

---------

Arthur had to wait just a short time before Spokesman Ralkliv walked in. After going through the formal greeting, Ralkliv invited him into his private office to discuss his situation.

"Arthur it is good to see you back," Ralkliv said in English. "I trust they didn't treat you too badly at the work camp?"

"It wasn't all that bad really," Arthur replied with a straight face. "And I did get to see a bit of the countryside."

"Good, good. I was more than a little worried about you; I have heard that sometimes the Ministry's guards can be fairly harsh toward criminals sentenced to their camps." Ralkliv raised an eyebrow. "And that flood must have been terrifying."

Arthur tried to steer the subject in another direction. "Yes, it was a big one. Spokesman, I was surprised to meet Samantha and Laura at the same camp, I actually had a lot of contact with them. One of the guards had me teach them to speak Danubian. I believe they were released yesterday. Are they back in the city now?"

"Yes, they're back." Ralkliv gestured toward the window. "I have them working with the city groundskeepers for the time being, but there is something else we need to discuss. With Jakt's business shutting down for the winter I have to find you some other job." Ralkliv shook his head. "It has not been an easy task to find you employment."

"Spokesman," Arthur said in Danubian. "Don't you think that my Danubian is good enough to be understood?"

"Oh... Yes, Arthur that actually sounds very good but that is not the problem." Ralkliv explained. "People are reluctant to hire you because of who you are. The crimes that you were involved in were widely publicized."

"So they think I'm a danger? I didn't do anything but take cover during the gun fight."

"Regardless, they see you as a threat in more ways than one. It is not good to be called a spy in Danubia. Arthur, in two weeks I have not found a single private employer willing to hire you."

Spokesman Ralkliv opened a folder. "That leaves only two options. The first is that you could be placed on a criminal labor crew for the Ministry of Public Works. The second option... By the way can you swim? Yes? Alright, the second option is that every fall the Ministry of Natural Resources uses a criminal work crew to clean up around the reservoir as well as do some maintenance on park grounds; it is only until winter though by that time perhaps I can find you another position."

"Do I have the choice, Spokesman?"

"Either of these options are acceptable to me, but you might want to think it over some."

"There's no need, I want the Ministry of Natural Resources job up on the lake."

Ralkliv nodded. "Very well. In two weeks you will need to report to the headquarters but before then I will have to get you an appointment with them for the necessary certification. They require some basic water rescue training for all workers, there is a training center not far from here."

Spokesman Ralkliv opened a desk drawer and removed a bundle of papers about an inch thick. "I have to go downstairs for a few minutes, why don't you look through some of the mail that has accumulated since you have been gone."

Ralkliv left and Arthur picked up the letter on top. "Let's see, one from the Assistant Secretary of the Bureau of European and Eurasian Affairs." He ripped it open and read. 

'We thank you for taking the time to write the Office of the...' Arthur skipped ahead... 'Regret to inform you that no further action is legally warranted in your case at this time. However, the US Department of State is dedicated to assuring the fair treatment of US citizens held in custody overseas, therefore a US Consular Officer will be sent to meet with you at the soonest possible date.'

The next letter was from the office of his congressman. 'Under current international agreements the United States Congress does not have the authority to alter the legal status of US citizens held in custody outside of our borders...' Arthur skimmed ahead... 'It would be more appropriate to direct your efforts to the European Bureau of the Department of State.'

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Great, this is the one time that they don't want to meddle overseas." He knew his own future was looking bleak, every effort he had made so far to get assistance from the US had failed, and the way that Danubians viewed him made any kind of reduced sentence very unlikely.

"I've only been here four months." Arthur whispered to himself. "Twenty-nine years and eight months to go."

There was a sense of disbelief when he glanced at the next envelope. "You have got to be kidding me! It must have taken a bloodhound with crystal balls to find me here."

He ripped open the envelope labeled: Alumni Association. 'You are cordially invited to attend the Annual University Homecoming and Alumni Banquet.'

Arthur smiled deviously. "So they encourage alumni to send in a picture of themselves and news of what's going on in their lives along with a donation. I would definitely have the most interesting capsule in the alumni newsletter. Let's see, what would I say?" Arthur flipped the paper over and started scribbling on the back.

Dear Alumni Association,

It is good to hear from you, please allow me to catch you up on what's going on in my life. The past few months have been very challenging and exciting! I had always wanted to visit Europe so back in May when a business opportunity presented itself I took a big risk and traveled to a country in Eastern Europe known as the Grand Duchy of Upper Danubia. It was a big change from what I was used to, but I always felt that going new places and meeting new people really expanded a person's horizons. 

From the beginning I was positively captivated by the Duchy's fascinating customs, culture, and unique legal system. Now I truly understand what it means to step outside my comfort zone. I have a new job, a new place to live, new friends, and I'm taking advantage of this opportunity to learn a difficult foreign language. And the people are so friendly here! I suspect that I'm going to live in Danubia for a good long time; in fact, one might say that the government insists upon it!

Yours Truly,

Arthur Liggett, Criminal # 88588

"Ok, now all I need is a photograph and I can have Tee type this up and send it in with a donation. I dare them to take the money and publish this!" Arthur cackled. "Tee's gonna have a spasm."

Arthur straightened up as Spokesman Ralkliv returned. "Spokesman, I want to take some photographs to send back home. Where can I get a cheap camera?"

Ralkliv shook his head. "You cannot."

"I can pay for it, my sister could wire in the money if I don't have enough here."

"No, I mean you are not allowed to possess a camera." Ralkliv sat back down at his desk.

Arthur was confused yet again. "Criminals can't have cameras?"

"Most criminals can, but you were convicted of espionage so you are not allowed to possess any recording devices. I went over this with you after your trial"

Arthur didn't want to say that it had taken weeks to get where he could understand Ralkliv's heavily accented English clearly. "So could I get Samantha to buy the camera and take the pictures I want?"

"Absolutely not!" Ralkliv tapped a forefinger on the desktop as he forcefully made his point. "Directing another criminal to conspire with you to go around the law is even worse. Criminal # 88588, I am your custodian under the law and you will do as I say, you must not try and circumvent the intent of the law." Spokesman Ralkliv made an exasperated gesture, leaned back in his chair and took a long breath. "Arthur I... I just don't trust you, when I talk to you it seems that your words are calculated and you show no expression at all as though you don't want me to know what you're really thinking."

"Spokesman, please understand that I'm not trying to be evasive, it's just that this place is so strange to me and I don't want to offend anyone by saying the wrong thing." Arthur wondered if he sounded convincing. "So... how can I legally obtain a photo to send home?"

Spokesman Ralkliv sighed. "I'll have my secretary take a couple pictures, is that satisfactory criminal # 88588?"

"Yes sir." Arthur smiled. "That's excellent, but there's one other thing concerning Samantha..."

---------

Courtship was complicated business; Spokesman Ralkliv had looked quizzically at him as he started writing it all down in his notebook. For Danubians, the courtship protocol was ordinary but to a foreigner like Arthur it was beyond confusing. It seemed they had rules for just about everything. To keep track of it all Arthur wrote down everything he learned; the notebook was already half full of his scribbling.

Arthur checked the clock; it was six-fifteen already; time to go to the hotel to meet Samantha's parents. This meeting was either step three or four in the protocol, depending on how you counted; it was hard to say since his was not a typical case.

During the last week at the labor camp Arthur had asked Samantha 'out' while they walked along the inside of the perimeter fence. Arthur planned to have some kind of a date once they got back to Rika Chorna, but the next day Samantha informed him that it was not going to be that easy. One of the female criminals had explained the whole courtship process in some detail.

First he needed Spokesman Ralkliv's permission; since he was Samantha's spokesman too that was straight forward enough. Next he needed to be invited to dinner with Samantha's host family, and that's where the trouble began. She might as well have asked to have a wet dog seated at their dinner table. It seemed that there was a serious social stigma with having the American spy over for supper but after much negotiation Ralkliv and the host family came to an unusual agreement. Samantha's parents were coming to see their daughter on the 14th of September; the deal was that if Arthur could gain her parent's permission, then Samantha's host family would reluctantly invite Arthur to sit at their table.

They probably didn't think Samantha's parents would even consider giving the infamous spy permission to court their only daughter but Arthur was determined to prove them wrong. Samantha told him all about her mom and dad. Arthur knew where they lived, and worked, their hobbies, and a lot of other information that might help him make a good impression. They would obviously be concerned about his crimes, though Arthur was sure that they thought their daughter was being treated unfairly and so they might have some sympathy for his situation too.

Arthur walked through the sparsely decorated hotel lobby and found room 112 near the end of a narrow hallway; he took a deep breath to steady his nerves and knocked on the door. The same man that Arthur had briefly met three months earlier opened the door. "Please come inside Mr. Liggett."

There was a tense handshake. "It's good to meet you again Mr. Sherman. Please, call me Arthur."

Introducing himself to Samantha's parents while naked was an uncomfortable situation to say the least. In the spectrum of bad ways to meet a girlfriend's parents, being naked with a tracking collar on your neck would surely score high on the list. Arthur thought he was over his inhibitions toward nudity until he was standing naked in front of these two fully clothed Americans. It was beyond embarrassing, though the Shermans looked just as red in the face as he did all over.

"This is my wife Anna." Mr. Sherman ushered his tall slender wife forward to shake Arthur's hand. "Samantha will be along in a few minutes, we wanted to speak with you alone first." They invited Arthur to sit at a small dining room table, perhaps so he wouldn't look quite so distracting.

Mrs. Sherman poured Arthur a glass of water and sat down; she had a friendly smile and piercing eyes. "Why don't you tell us a little about yourself Arthur?"

Arthur gave a practiced response with a brief description of his upbringing, family, education, jobs and such. He was sure to put in several pauses to make it seem less rehearsed.

"Arthur," A visibly nervous Mr. Sherman tapped his fingers together and leaned forward. "There is the matter of the crimes you were convicted of... we can't allow Samantha to see someone dangerous, you understand. Samantha believes that you were innocent of the crimes and just fooled into participating in that break-in and theft, and that you weren't involved in the shooting. Is that true, are you not guilty?"

Arthur was not so calm then; he forgot his practiced response altogether. He delayed by taking a slow sip of water. Focus didn't come. Samantha's parents waited for response. Arthur shifted uncomfortably, he just couldn't think straight under the pressure.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said at last, shaking his head with embarrassment. "It's... um... just that I can't always remember things clearly. I haven't been sleeping much."

Mrs. Sherman nodded. "That's understandable; just take your time Arthur."

Arthur drank down the rest of his water and stared at the empty glass in his hands. The longer he focused on it the calmer and relaxed he felt.

"I used to say I was completely innocent, that my old boss and that Russian had just used me to get what they wanted, but I knew it wasn't legitimate."

"Mr. Neal said Rumak was an associate of his, someone involved in the energy markets. I met Rumak in Germany on the morning of the eighth of May; we arrived at our destination not six hours after we first met.

I didn't inquire all that much about what he was up to; he seemed to know what he was doing like he had been here before. I really didn't want to know the details. I just focused on my part; I would get the data for him.

And of course I thought I was worth all that money... it felt so good. I liked the idea of it: to fly into a strange foreign country, do a job like that and get out the same day with all that money... it was like something out of a movie.

But Rumak turned out to be a very dangerous man. I guess he thought he was caught so he shot the policeman and left me there to take the blame. I didn't know he had a gun. I didn't know who he really was... but that's no excuse. Without my help, he probably wouldn't have been in Rika Chorna that day and that police officer wouldn't have been shot. The policeman almost died. He has a wife and two little kids, and from what I understand, he will never fully recover."

Arthur paused for a long while. "I don't know... sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and think about what happened... and I realize I did this to myself. Someone almost died and I hurt my family. I think if my dad was still alive he would be ashamed of me."

Arthur stopped talking and looked up at the couple seated in front of him. While he had spoken he had a distant feeling like he was alone and talking only to himself, he certainly hadn't planned to be so embarrassingly honest in front of Samantha's parents. He really did need to get more sleep.

"Um... sorry." Arthur blinked away tears, took a sharp breath and cleared his throat. "Mr. and Mrs. Sherman, I have my problems but I'm no danger to your daughter or anyone else."

"Arthur, I appreciate you telling us the truth." Mrs. Sherman said. "I would have been suspicious if you claimed to be completely innocent," Her eyes darted toward her husband then back to Arthur; she seemed to have difficulty bringing up the next part. "Arthur, I want to know about Samantha, yesterday she admitted to us that she had been using ecstasy for the past year. Do you think she's clean?"

"Yes ma'am, there's no drug problem here. She never said anything to me about drugs since her arrest; I don't think she was addicted. It would be nearly impossible to find drugs here anyway, and even if a criminal found a dealer he still couldn't buy anything, you see criminals aren't even allowed to carry money."

"Good, that's so good to hear." Mrs. Sherman said. "Samantha told us how you tried to warn her and Laura about the drug laws, and you tried to keep them from getting arrested. She said you got in trouble because of that."

"Yes ma'am. That seems like a long time ago... having lunch at that restaurant. Tourists don't understand how harsh the laws are here but I guess my warnings didn't do much good. I was really shocked to see them arrested the next week."

"And you got punished for trying to keep Samantha and Laura out of trouble." Mr. Sherman seethed: "Unbelievable!"

Arthur decided that it would be best to let them assume that his motivations were pure and noble that day. "It wasn't their fault, sir. I made my own decision when I chose to not report a crime."

"If you don't mind, Arthur... um..." Mrs. Sherman's voice quivered like she might cry. "Samantha isn't telling us anything... how bad is it, these beatings?"

Arthur flinched but kept eye contact with Mrs. Sherman. "Um... I really don't know what to say. The pain is intense... I thought I would pass out, but I didn't. The police keep you right on the edge; they want to break your will, they want to humiliate you... that's sometimes almost as bad as the pain. It's a hard thing to deal with, for me at least."

Mrs. Sherman took a quick breath, choking back a sob. "How can these people be so cruel?"

Both parents were distraught. Arthur realized he wasn't being very reassuring. "Uh... well, Danubians don't see it that way; they're real proud of their system. They think it's cruel to lock someone in a jail cell." Arthur shrugged. "This is harsh but I suppose it's better than prison in some ways."

Mr. Sherman looked exhausted; he ran a hand through his thinning hair and sighed. "I can't stand the thought of it."

"Samantha's really pretty tough." Arthur reassured. "When I saw her before the trial she looked so fragile, I thought she'd just fall apart but she didn't. Really, she's dealt with it better than me in some ways. And as bad as it is, the switchings don't do permanent harm. Samantha's got five really bad days ahead of her; and then it will be over with. For a drug conviction... from what I understand it's usually worse."

Arthur looked away as Mrs. Sherman finally broke down. She excused herself from the table. Arthur could clearly hear her sobbing behind the bathroom door.

"Arthur," Mr. Sherman asked after his wife had gone. "How many do you have left? If you don't mind me asking."

"No sir, I don't mind. Let's see," Arthur acted like he didn't think about it much. "Four per year, for thirty years... minus two... so it would be a hundred and eighteen more."




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 09



"Damn..." Mr. Sherman swore then he rested his forehead on his right fist. "This whole thing's a nightmare... I don't know what to do. No one in the government seems to think there's anything wrong with what they're doing to my daughter. And now Samantha treats us like strangers; I tried to talk to her but she pushes us away."

"I understand why she doesn't want to talk about it." Arthur gestured to his collar. "I don't want my family to see me like this either. I don't know, maybe it gets easier with time."

Mrs. Sherman came back to the table; she politely apologized for the interruption and sat down again. "I appreciate you trying to help the girls, Arthur." Mrs. Sherman's shaky voice betrayed her outward calm. "It must be especially bad for the women. I want to know... Arthur...how is she being treated... is she being abused?"

Arthur knew what she meant but he wanted to steer clear if he could. "She spent three months at the labor camp. Life there was harsh. The work was exhausting, conditions were primitive, and the guards were very strict, the smallest infraction would get a criminal punished, the..."

Arthur was relieved that Samantha arrived at that moment to interrupt him; even with the summer tan Arthur could see her blush; that first meeting with her parents must have been horrible for her.

Samantha took the empty chair and there was a brief attempt at having a normal conversation. Samantha's father finally interrupted the awkward silence to go to the hotel office and order some food. They talked more freely after the food arrived and Mr. and Mrs. Sherman got into the second bottle of wine; Arthur and Samantha drank iced tea. At the end of the meal her parents exchanged glances.

Mr. Sherman, who had drank the majority of the wine, stood with a noticeable wobble and cleared his throat. "Arthur, I think that you are a good young man who has made some serious mistakes, but then so has Samantha."

He placed his left hand on Arthur's shoulder and grasped his hand for an overly vigorous handshake, Arthur awkwardly stood up and Mr. Sherman slapped him on the back. "Arthur, I think you two would be good for each other." Mrs. Sherman looked embarrassed as he continued. "Anna, I'm sure you feel the same way, Samantha has had worse boyfriends..."

"Arthur, what my husband means to say," Mrs. Sherman interrupted her husband to Samantha's apparent relief. "Is that if you promise to treat our daughter with respect and take care of her as best you can, you have our blessing."

"Yes, I will of course. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Sherman." After an awkward pause Arthur continued. "Uh... You see everything is formal here, there has to be documentation. I need your permission in writing, with signatures and the date."

---------

Arthur turned in the signed statement to Spokesman Ralkliv then it was on to the next phase: dinner with her host family. This one was tricky; Arthur knew they were just looking for cause to reject him. But according to Danubian rules, they needed a specific reason and Arthur was determined not to give them one. Arthur carefully reviewed the two pages of protocol that he had written down before taking the bus to their house.

The couple that hosted Samantha were bureaucrats who worked in the provincial government. They had two children: a five-year-old girl and a boy almost three years old. Samantha suspected that they took her in just so that they would have a servant to care for the kids and clean the house. They weren't friendly at all, she had to kneel before speaking and when they did talk to her it was usually just to give orders. Samantha liked the two kids though, the little girl followed her around constantly calling her something that sounded like 'Sanka', and Samantha slept on a cot next to the baby's crib.

Arthur knocked on the painted wooden door and waited almost a minute before anyone answered. A tall man with a dark beard and a grim expression finally opened the door. Arthur had to follow protocol and kneel down on the front porch; seconds of silence passed before the man gave Arthur permission to get up and enter the house. There was an equally cold introduction of the wife and kids. The wife ordered Samantha, who had been in the kitchen, to serve some drinks.

Throughout the formal dinner Arthur got the feeling that they were looking for a mistake, a reason to reject him. There was a strict order of doing everything at one of these diners, and being a criminal, Arthur nearly always went last. The conversation was another complex game, with Arthur's grasp of Danubian basic at best there were many chances for a slip up. He decided that the less he said the better, so he spoke only when spoken to and kept his practiced answers brief and simple. He was inwardly amused at how frustrated the couple seemed toward the end of the meal, he had not given them a single legitimate reason to reject him. When the dinner was finished the hosts looked furious at having to invite the American spy back to their table the next week. 

---------

The final challenge was culinary rather than strategic. It was time for Samantha to come eat at the house of Arthur's host and Mr. Jakt was preparing something special. Jakt was an adventurous cook and a mushroom hunter. The previous day the old man proudly displayed his prize by dumping a pile of moist baseball sized nodules out on the kitchen table. The dozen or so gray and brown clumps were still coated in mud from recently being dug up out of the forest floor. "Uh... What do you have there Mr. Jakt?"

"These," the old man proudly asserted. "Are the rarest type of mushroom in the central mountains. I'm going to cook them for you and Samantha tomorrow; wait till you taste it!"

The day of the special dinner arrived. Jakt chopped the fungus up and dumped it in a large pot of boiling water; thick brown foam churned to the surface. The aroma was indescribable in polite company. Eager to escape the fumes, Arthur enthusiastically volunteered to pick up some special cut of meat that Jakt had ordered from the butcher. He didn't recognize the word that the butcher used to describe the mysterious meat but judging and from its size it must have been either bovine or equine in origin.

Later that day Arthur met Samantha outside the house to warn her. "Ok here's the deal, we're going to be eating some kind of strange slimy fungus that Mr. Jakt dug up in the woods, and I believe that the side dish is made out of something's tongue. Now, Mr. Jakt's really proud of this meal so we have to eat it and act like it's really good."

"Eeew..." Samantha cringed. "I don't want to eat anything that tastes me back. Are you sure it's a tongue? I mean I... I don't think I can eat that."

Arthur took Samantha's hand in his and then peered off into the distance for dramatic effect. "I know these are dark days and we have suffered greatly, but now is not the time to give in to fear, or collapse in defeat; now is the time to rise to the challenge! We must harden our stomachs to this fungal invader, devour the tongue that's placed before us, clean our plates and ask for seconds!" Arthur made a grand gesture, pointing upward. "This will be our finest hour, we will march into that dining room, we will eat that disgusting meal with smiles on our faces, and we- will- not- throw-up... until later."

"Nice speech, very inspirational and topical." Samantha smiled brightly as they walked toward the door.

"Thanks, I've been working on it for an hour."

---------

The following night they entered the criminal's club, took a seat in the back, and ordered two mugs of ale, but neither one was finished. Arthur raised his eyebrow slightly and Samantha shrugged. They hurried through a dim hallway toward the back of the club. There were doors to either side, some open some shut, that complex Danubian music was playing loud on speakers overhead. They picked an open room on the right side of the hallway. A mattress fitted with a white sheet rested on the concrete floor. A metal shelf bolted to the south wall held more sheets, towels and a box of condoms. Everything looked clean at least.

Arthur closed the door behind them. Samantha pressed close; her bright green eyes reflected the single light above the door. Arthur kissed her gently at first then decided to abandon caution altogether. His hands slid down and cupped the curve of her bottom. Samantha made a pleasurable moan and reached down between their bodies and circled her fingers around him.

"I should have brought my notebook, to keep a record." Arthur joked. "I bet I have to file a report on this later."

"Never mind that." She stepped over to the shelf and removed a packet from the box.

Samantha smiled her wicked smile. "Before you have anything to write about, Spy boy you're going to have to catch me first." She flipped off the light switch.

Arthur made two strides in total darkness toward where she had stood, she had moved but a barely suppressed giggle gave away her location. Arthur wheeled around, dropped to his hands and knees and listened; there was a motion to the left. He reached out and grasped some sort of limb before she twisted and rolled away, this time toward the corner, she had no place to retreat to now. Arthur was pleased he had tracked down his prey in the small rectangular room.

She squealed and giggled uncontrollably as Arthur caught an ankle in his right hand and moved forward to pin her down; she spun to the side and maybe would have got away if she hadn't been laughing so hard. He gripped her waist and dragged her on top of the mattress in the middle of the room. "No more escapes for you." He pinned her down and kissed along her lean stomach. "I'm afraid that I'll have to conduct a careful search to make sure you're not carrying a weapon; a spy has to be careful after all."

"Ah..." her shapely legs parted. "Well, if you must... mmm... you really are thorough, Arthur." Her fingers pressed the back of his head pulling him closer. "But you're not really going to... Ooh... take advantage of an innocent young lady are you?"

Arthur moved back up her body and grasped a nipple between his fingers. "You mean there's an innocent young lady in here too?" He pinched hard enough to make her yelp and squirm beneath him. "I'm afraid she's just going to have to wait, I have my hands full already."

Their collars clinked together as they kissed. Arthur felt her hand reach between his legs and fingers run along the length of him. "Mmm... I think you're the one carrying the weapon, maybe we should put a... cloak on that dagger before you... try and conceal that thing." She pushed Arthur back to his knees and he heard the pack open. With apparent practiced skill she rolled the latex in place.

"Now it's on to the conquest." Arthur proclaimed in his best Sean Connery type voice.

"It is?" Samantha bit down hard on his ear.

"Uh...yeah," Arthur tried to pull his ear loose while her teeth clamped down. "Ack... Haven't you ever seen a spy movie before? It's... standard procedure." He yanked his ear out of her mouth and pushed her back on the mattress.

She gasped and clung to his back, "Mmm... people tried to warn me about your... corrupting influence."

"You just wouldn't listen..." He whispered. "And now look where you are."

---------

They lay in the complete darkness, resting a few minutes.

"I woke up in the middle of a flower bed this morning." Arthur broke the silence.

"Uh... What?"

"I sleepwalk. Early this morning when it was still dark out I woke up in the neighbor's yard. This woman who lives next to Mr. Jakt let her dog out the front door, when he saw me laying there that beagle really freaked out and then the woman walked out into the yard to see what he was barking at. Judging by her reaction what she did not expect to see was some naked dude climbing out of her tulips at four AM; she threw her hands up and screamed like a banshee as she ran back to her porch. I had just woke up with that dog barking in my face and didn't know what the hell was going on, so I jumped up and stumbled backwards over her picket fence and fell right onto the road."

"You gotta be kidding."

"No kidding... the beagle jumped the fence right behind me and bit the big toe of my right foot; there was this big commotion with the woman screaming, the dog barking, and me cussing. The whole damned neighborhood woke up, turned on their lights and came outside. Someone must have thought I was an intruder and called the cops. So early this morning I got taken to the police headquarters and put in a holding cell. The police were convinced that I was high on drugs, and wouldn't listen to anything I had to say.

You know, I think Spokesman Ralkliv wanted to strangle me when the guards marched me to his office in handcuffs this morning. Anyway, after the drug tests came back negative I had to go before a judge this afternoon to explain why I caused the disturbance."

"What happened?"

"Well, I went into the judge's chamber expecting to get in more trouble for violating the terms of my sentence again. He gave me a chance to explain my odd behavior so I told my story and I was absolutely shocked to find out that the judge believed me. It turns out that Mr. Jakt was able to talk his neighbor out of pressing charges for the property damage, I'll have to repair her fence and clean up a bit, that's it though."

"Holy shit, that's weird. My brother used to do that, sleepwalking I mean, though he never went out of the house and all that stopped when he grew up."

"One time back in Louisiana I woke up sitting behind the wheel in my truck with keys in the ignition. It was the weirdest thing, as I woke up I was tugging on the steering wheel trying to make a curve. Anyway, I thought I was over it... I mean I didn't have any episodes in the last year or so... until I was in that work camp and it became pretty common again." Arthur laughed. "I really freaked out some of the other criminals, stumbling around the barracks in the dark like a zombie. I think I became even less popular, if that's possible."

"It's all the stress I bet. Arthur you're so nervous all the time, maybe if you talked about it would help. You know, I think that Laura and I adapted better than you did. Arthur this place freaks me out too but you're getting paranoid, you have to try and calm down some. Being all tied up inside will drive you crazy."

"I know, I know. I've never been so... so angry and... frustrated before. I barely sleep anymore. I know it's not good to hate people but I do. During that flood back at camp I was actually looking out the barracks window hoping the whole town would be washed away. Most of those people hadn't done anything to me, but at the time I wanted them all dead for... revenge I guess." Arthur paused. "I don't want to be like that."

"Arthur," Samantha rolled on her side and placed a hand on his chest. "If there's one thing I've learned from reading brochures in my mom's office it's that when a person looks at their situation more objectively they realize that life isn't just about them. Becoming bitter and resentful isn't going to help your situation any way; you just need to let it go."

Arthur nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. I guess most of the people here mean well, in their own peculiar way. From their perspective I'm a foreigner who came in to their country to steal from them. It's really hard to think kindly about Danubians after going through all this shit, but I will make the effort to at least not... hate." Arthur reached down to find her hand. "Maybe your mom could send me a box of those brochures."

---------

Meanwhile, Laura had been experiencing a much smoother introduction into Danubian-style courtship. She met a young man at the labor camp, a nineteen year-old Danubian man, who absolutely looked like a giant beside her petite frame. Like Arthur and Samantha, Laura had been through the two formal dinners and now she wanted to introduce Demetri to her friends.

Later that week Arthur sat down at the table next to Samantha. "I never talked to the guy. He was on crew 11, I think... sent back about a week before us; besides him being huge I don't know anything else about him. So, Laura must have said something; I know how you girls gossip. You got to know something about this Demetri."

Samantha shrugged. "I know he's from Danube City."

Arthur laughed: "Uh... Oh."

"What?"

"It's the rivalry." Arthur explained. "He's going to be almost as unpopular as me. These people feud like my grandpa and Uncle Leroy."

"So what do you think started it?"

"Well, it all began when my grandpa's prize coonhound had an unexpected pregnancy..."

"No," Samantha interrupted. "I meant the Danubian feud, between Rika Chorna and Danube City."

"Oh that... I don't know, every time I asked it got really tense. After a while I learned to just not mention it. I did happen to find a brochure in the trash once that listed some Danubian history in English. It said something about a squabble inside the royal family centuries ago. People had to leave some other place and come here. It probably had something to do with an unexpected pregnancy."

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Even I know more than that. It was the Ottoman invasion that caused the resettlement."

"Ottomans... what's their problem anyway? Think of it; a whole Empire dedicated to footstools."

Samantha smirked: "You're just a fountain of information. Wait... here they come."

Laura walked into the criminal's club hand in hand with her new boyfriend. She came up to just around his shoulder. Arthur figured Demetri was eight inches taller than him and heavily muscled like an American football player. Arthur and Samantha stood and invited them to the table. Demetri's hand nearly swallowed Arthur's. Arthur brought a pitcher of beer, Samantha and Laura chatted incessantly, and the guys just shared what passed for occasional small talk.

Then the conversation turned more serious when Laura spoke of Demetri's sentence. At that point Demetri felt it was necessary to share his whole story with the group. It seemed to Arthur that Danubian criminals had a habit of working sad stories into the conversation. Arthur didn't like that, but if he ever hoped to make friends with a Danubian, melodrama was just something he would have to put up with.

Demetri told how he was currently in the city of Rika Chorna because of a very difficult situation. His family was prominent amongst the Danube City police force. His father, grandfather, sister and two cousins were currently on the force; he had grown up around cops, all his friends were children of cops. Just after his graduation Demetri applied to the academy himself.

That plan was now put on hold indefinitely. It was all put in jeopardy when the young man and some of his friends had drank far too much alcohol and then got involved in a big fist fight outside a bar. Several broken windows and a few broken bones later the police showed up. Three others were arrested but Demetri, being big and strong, did the most damage and got in the most trouble.

Because of his close ties to law enforcement in Danube City, the judge ordered that Demetri stand trial 300 kilometers away, in the provincial capital of Rika Chorna. He told how he wanted to go back to his home but he still had a year left to serve.

After Demetri finished Samantha told him about her own conviction and sentence then everyone looked to Arthur. Arthur quickly counted off the sequence on his fingers: "Back in May I was convicted of spying, theft, and unlawful entry. I got a thirty year sentence and a hundred twenty switchings... um, so want another round?"

Demetri frowned. "Hmm... that is... very harsh..."

"Yeah... I didn't want to say anything," Arthur cringed. "But the beer in this country really isn't very good."




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 09



Demetri looked confused and Samantha gave Arthur a dirty look.

Then a band started up on stage. Arthur and Samantha turned to watch. Laura took her big boyfriend's hand and led him off toward the privacy of one of the rooms in the back.

Arthur whispered in Samantha's ear: "Man! He's gonna squash her like a bug!"

Samantha suffered from inappropriate laughter. "What if she splits in half?"

"Even if she survives," Arthur snickered. "Laura's gonna be walking crooked for a week! That's like being fucked by a mountain gorilla!"

"Call police ..." Samantha had her head down on the table laughing, "coochy battery in progress!"

"And if he ever gets in," Arthur snickered. "It may take King Arthur to pull him back out again!"

"One time..." Samantha shook with laughter. "I watched twenty five people squeeze into a Volkswagen... you wouldn't think they would fit but they did."

"I wish we could sell tickets or take wagers. Maybe get it on film..." Arthur scoffed: "but I suppose that selling tapes of a friend getting boinked would be considered dishonorable too."

Samantha wiped away tears. "Yep, I'm pretty sure it would be."

"Man!" Arthur swore. "Why is it that everything I want to do is dishonorable?"



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 10



Chapter 10: Unnatural Resources

The lake was deep blue and so wide that a person could see across it only from the high ridgelines a thousand feet up. Along the shore just a few national park campgrounds interrupted the expanse of undeveloped wilderness around the eastern side of the Rika Chorna Reservoir.

Ten criminals followed behind the ranger, he kept his horse at a trot so they were forced to jog along the trail just to keep up. Running with handfuls of rakes, shovels, and pick-axes was about as easy as it was quiet but Danubian criminals were accustomed to hard work. The steady south wind made for an unusually mild October day. In the forest leaves fell like yellow and orange snow, the sort they have in China.

The ranger crossed the small stream near the stables then brought his horse to a stop. He adjusted his wide-brimmed hat and turned back toward the trailing criminal work crew. "You," the ranger bellowed, "American."

He never had a horse, never rode a horse, never wanted a horse, but it was always Arthur who had to take care of the ranger's horse at the end of the day. Arthur didn't have anything against equines in general, but this particular horse had something against him, he was sure of it. Ears folded back, teeth bared, indignant snorts; this horse was evil, and to make matters worse the ranger ordered him to take it down to the creek and wash the damned thing!

Arthur put away his pickaxe and rake in the toolshed, then reluctantly gathered the bucket, soap, and brush used to scrub the hateful beast. Arthur was certain it subtly glanced at him with malicious intent as he unbuckled the saddle and untied the lead; he kept careful watch on the scheming horse as he led it toward the creek.

Ankle deep in cold water with the ranger's horse before him, Arthur decided to get it over with quickly, but as soon as he reached down to retrieve the brush from the soapy water the beast took advantage of his momentary lapse in vigilance and bit down hard on Arthur's left shoulder with its pointy evil horse teeth. He jerked away from its huge jaws and thick rubbery lips and stared with unrestrained fury into its long wicked face. Arthur's sequence of horse-related insults ranged over three languages, lasted a full minute, and gave no thought toward decency, wholesomeness, or subject verb agreement.

Throughout the whole tirade the horse just stood there, like it was completely innocent and hadn't done a thing. Arthur glared at it and rubbed his shoulder; feeling an arc of horse tooth indentions sore under his fingertips.

"Evil deceptive horse," Arthur screamed in half English half Danubian. "Now you act like you didn't bite me?" Arthur looked into the depths of its wicked eye... they were set too wide apart to stare at both. They dared one another- the horse was testing his resolve, Arthur was sure. The hateful abyss of the beast's large black orbs taunted him, but he was determined to meet its defiant gaze.

"What are you doing?" The ranger was back to check on his horse. "Rinse him off and take him to the stable." The ranger clapped his hands rapidly and spoke in a condescending tone. "Hurry up." A dejected Arthur retrieved the bucket and did as he was ordered; the horse had won this time... but next time... ooh, yes... next time.

---------

A ranger drove Arthur back to Rika Chorna right after work on the 8th of November. He met Samantha outside her host family's house after she had put the kids to bed; they hurried through the cold night air. A band performed on stage as they walked through the criminal's club toward the rooms in the back. 

"Arthur, I didn't even know you were coming back today; is the job at the lake finished?" Samantha shut the door and flopped back on the mattress. 

"No," Arthur said nervously. "That'll go on until it gets pretty cold, I guess. They brought me back because tomorrow's the 9th."

"The ninth... oh god... the switching, I forgot." Samantha turned white. "I'm really sorry." 

Arthur sat down beside her. "Don't worry about it; I can survive another one." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Samantha.

"That policewoman hates you; I watched the way she looked at you."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"I missed you." Samantha leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. "When do you have to go back up to the reservoir?"

"The tenth," Arthur took a breath as he thought of something. "Uh... Are you busy tomorrow evening? I was thinking about attending one of their church services, I thought you might want to join me."

Samantha looked surprised. "I thought you were an atheist."

"Oh... I don't know," Arthur shrugged. "I believe in whatever's convenient, I guess, but never mind that. See, I think that attending their church could benefit me. From what I understand, a judge sometimes reduces a criminal's sentence for good behavior or an act of heroism. I haven't come up with anything heroic to do yet... well, I have been watching for some tourist to fall off the docks so I could rescue them, but they have pretty good balance so far."

"The good behavior route hasn't been going so well either, I started out with a bad reputation and I think it's gotten even worse. So my next plan is to convert to the Danubian religion. I thought maybe that would help my image. Danubians might think I'm reforming myself, finding the Correct Path in Life and all that."

"Arthur," Samantha said. "I'm already a member of a church; I'm not going to join some pagan religion."

"Oh, come on," Arthur urged: "I'm pretty sure they'll not make you sacrifice a chicken or anything, besides you don't have to join. Just go and watch." 

"Well," Samantha said. "I... I guess it wouldn't hurt to go watch but I'm not going to do anything."

"I'd worship flying monkeys if I got something out of it." Arthur smirked. "This first trip though, I just plan on observing. I want to know how people are expected to act before I go any further." Arthur swallowed hard and paused. "I have to be extra cautious, especially after what happened during the Day of the Dead."

"No shit! That was the only time I ever saw Spokesman Ralkliv at a loss for words."

Arthur shrugged. "I still don't think it was my fault. I mean I just got back to Rika Chorna that morning... no one explained that shit to me. As I see it, it was their fault for not being clear. If you paint a foreigner up like a zombie, you should make sure that person understands that he is not in a Halloween parade... and that he's not supposed to act like a zombie."

"Arthur, I don't think this place has done good things for your head. Do me a favor and don't go completely nuts, I really don't want to have to date a Danubian. I swear, if I hear one more word about my honor I'm going to puke!" Samantha grinned. "So... what's it like up on the lake? It's not as bad as the labor camp is it?"

"The work's similar but the staff is nicer. I dig, rake, stack rocks, and such. It's not bad work really, except for this terrible horse that I have to take care of. You should see the way it looks at me and it bites me whenever it gets a chance and then it acts like..."

Samantha sighed and stretched back on the mattress. She arched her back seductively and opened her knees wide apart giving her lover a fine view. Samantha wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and held Arthur's attention with her hungry green eyes. Arthur watched her right hand slide down her firm stomach to go between her thighs, rubbing nimble fingers teasingly over her plump sex. Samantha's other hand alternately squeezed her breasts and played with her stiff nipples.

"Ooh Arthur," Samantha undulated her hips and moaned loudly: "When you talk about horses it makes me sooo wet!"

Arthur sat there grinning and enjoying the show: "Really?"

Samantha giggled and grabbed ahold of Arthur's erection. "God, you're so stupid sometimes."

---------

People wrapped in scarves and heavy winter coats hurried along the sidewalk toward their destinations. Arthur was the last one off the bus; he was also the one person who really didn't want to retreat indoors. He slowed and then came to a complete stop on the bottom step at the entrance to the Police Headquarters. A cold front had passed through the previous night, though the morning sky was mostly clear a few snow flurries blew toward the southeast. Arthur wasn't wearing anything other than work boots but the temperature was the last thing on his mind. He stood there until his skin was numb from the cold. A woman behind him complained about the stupid criminal blocking the stairs while she was freezing to death. Arthur stepped to the side and let the woman, who seemed dressed for an arctic expedition, pass by. It was hard to move forward, so hard to climb those steps and report to his spokesman's office on the day of his third scheduled judicial punishment. There was really no alternative though, Arthur tried to convince himself; it was simply something he had to do. He willed himself to start walking again; Spokesman Ralkliv was waiting inside his office when Arthur arrived.

Ralkliv was very businesslike; he offered some food and coffee, though Arthur refused both. How a criminal could eat at a time like this was baffling and as for the coffee, Arthur felt alert enough already. For fifteen minutes he sat and waited for the policewoman and her partner to arrive. Even though he was on the fourth floor of the police headquarters with a tracking collar on his neck the police still felt the need to handcuff his hands behind his back; with a firm grip on his arm Officer Stashak marched him steadily toward his destination: a long corridor in the basement with five rooms along the right side. Sobbing noises could be overheard as they passed by two of the doors. Arthur was taken to the last room in the hall. The room was almost square, six meters across, with concrete floor, bright lighting, and a thick wooden door. A sturdy metal table stood waist-high near the middle of the room, three folding chairs were along one wall and the camera operator had his equipment set up in the back corner two meters from the judge's desk.

Arthur recognized the judge as the woman who had sent him to the hard labor camp. A witness was present. The woman looked about thirty, attractive but underweight and far too pale, her sharp features and black hair, matched her cold expression; yet she looked somehow familiar. Everyone in the room except Spokesman Ralkliv seemed hostile and ready to enjoy his pain.

Arthur lowered himself before the policewoman and kissed the shoes of his tormentor, seconds passed between this degrading act and the tap on his shoulder.

"Criminal # 88588, you will position yourself on the punishment table before I lose my patience."

Arthur stood up and walked to the end of the table that faced the Judge, he put his ankles against the leather restraints that were bolted securely to each steel table leg. Watching closely, Officer Stashak tapped her switch impatiently against her left palm. He knew he couldn't delay; Arthur bent forward at the waist ninety degrees exposing him to the punishment that was soon to come. He stretched out across the cold metal tabletop and placed his wrists across leather restraints that were polished from frequent use.

As Stashak strapped him down, Arthur glanced toward the witness. He realized where he had seen her before: in the newspaper. It was the wife of the injured policeman here to see justice done. It only got worse. Stashak efficiently bound his ankles, wrists, and midsection to the table then she stepped back and swished the flexible switch through the air a few times to let her victim sweat it out in anticipation of the first stroke. 

Arthur heard the high-pitched whistle and the snap of leather against skin. Then a line of burning pain formed along the right side of his buttocks. Arthur wasn't expecting the first hit so soon, he jerked, and a barely audible gasp escaped his lips. As the pain faded he concentrated on being calm, still, and defiant. The officer struck nine more times, moving lower with each vicious blow. Stashak paused to run her fingertips over painful welts looking for a reaction; not getting one, she stepped to her left and took aim at unmarked skin.

Methodical and cruel, Stashak struck hard and then paused many seconds to give Criminal # 88588 plenty of time to dread the next brutal stroke of her switch. It was not just the pain but also the wait that wore on a criminal's mind during a punishment, knowing that a police officer could take as long as she wished to inflict the fifty strikes. Ten welts on each side and criminal # 88588 was desperately trying to remain still, his skin was wet with sweat and he pressed his forehead hard against the table. She struck mercilessly five times along the back of his right thigh, and observed the criminal's uncontrolled tugging against his restraints with every stroke, it wouldn't be long she knew. Stashak started her methodical assault on the left side. Criminal # 88588 groaned after the switch landed, she knew she was close to breaking him now. Four more strikes in quick succession caused the American to finally cry out. Stashak was pleased, she glanced to the wife of her former partner, who came to see Criminal # 88588 suffer for his crimes. The woman looked even more pale than usual. 

Officer Stashak had gotten a good response with her last hard strike but now was not the time to hurry; she would give the American spy the long painful beating he deserved. She waited for his breathing to slow before getting back into position; there was a solid mass of red welts that had swollen across the criminal's bottom; it would be excruciating when she began to overlap them.

On the next strike Criminal # 88588 made a suppressed groan and then couldn't even breath for several seconds, after a long pause she put all her strength into a stroke across the center of both cheeks. He screamed. Ralkliv, the arrogant spokesman that got the American out of the death sentence he deserved, rose out of his chair to check for blood. There was none of course, there were plenty of broken capillaries under the surface, but Stashak knew exactly what she could get by with without breaking the skin and stopping the punishment early. Criminal # 88588 would have no such luck. Six more strikes resulted in more agonized screams as swollen tortured skin took more punishment, she was sure to wait minutes in between strikes to let the American appreciate the pain fully and dread her next blow.

Ralkliv watched carefully now for broken skin, at length he decided to direct her blows to the back of his client's thighs. Officer Stashak was pleased to accommodate him by striking twice on each leg, covering previous welts in new lines of pain for the American spy to feel. The final eight hard blows were directed to the unmarked skin of the criminal's shoulders; Stashak put all her strength into these last blows and got the loud responses she wanted. Ninety minutes under her care had reduced criminal # 88588 to a trembling mess who was hurting so bad he could barely breathe. Officer Stashak looked over to see Mrs. Andreis's disturbed expression; she had probably never witnessed a judicial switching up close before. 

Stashak admired her work as she freed the American from his bonds, virtually every centimeter of the criminal's buttocks and thighs were covered in purple welts and the eight red lines across his back were already turning dark and swelling. She ordered him to his feet, and brought him close to the judge for inspection; there could be no doubt he got the full punishment today. Watching Criminal # 88588 kiss her shoes and thank her for the punishment in a hoarse trembling voice made Officer Stashak feel smug. How could one not feel proud after a job so well done?

---------

Arthur carefully got up from the recovery table and decided to make his way outside. He shuffled slowly through the busy lobby at the ground floor of the Police Headquarters, people all around turned to see the welts covering the backside of the humiliated criminal. A cold west wind hit Arthur in the face as he stepped out the main entrance. Most of the people outside wore winter coats; Arthur hadn't bothered to even put on boots. He stood on a patch of brown grass and turned his back into the wind; it felt good. The throbbing burning of the fifty welts eased somewhat. Five minutes in the cold had reduced the pain considerably, though his hands and especially feet were almost frozen and the metal collar seemed to suck all the heat out of his skin on such a cold day. Arthur boarded a bus headed west toward Jakt's house. Free people on board the bus whispered and openly stared at his punished body as Arthur walked down the aisle; in Danubia a criminal's humiliation and torment was a spectator sport. 

Arthur shivered uncontrollably as he walked the last hundred meters to Jakt's front yard; shivering hurt, walking hurt, breathing hurt; when it was warm out even sweating seemed to hurt after a switching. With hands too numb to grip, Arthur pushed the gate open and walked past the concrete mixer that Jakt had been working on in the front yard. The junky antique doorknob had to be twisted just right as the warped door was pulled flat against the doorjamb. Arthur got it right after a few attempts, when the door swung open Jakt was right in front of him.

"Arthur it must be two below! You're going to freeze... you're not even wearing shoes!" Jakt started to help him inside until Arthur waved him off; he didn't want anyone touching his shoulders.

"Thought the cold air would... do me good." Arthur rubbed his numb hands together. "Reduce the swelling, maybe."

Jakt shut the door. "Humph... Freeze to death more likely. Go over to the stove and warm up. Are all Americans as crazy as you are?"

"I can tell you that they don't want me back."

"You have family and friends, I'm sure." Mr. Jakt said.

Arthur's laugh was rough and dry as his throat. "Dad's dead, mom's ashamed of me, none of my old friends have even bothered to write, and the US government isn't going to lift a finger to help me." Arthur's legs trembled as he stared down at Mr. Jakt's old gray linoleum. It was weathered and lined with age like the old man's face. Everything within the house was old, frozen decades in the past. 

Mr. Jakt grasped Arthur's forearm to gain his attention. "Arthur, I want you to know that you have a home here now. You are always welcome at my table."

"Mr. Jakt, I..." Arthur tried to control the shaking. "I know the way most people feel about me here. I imagine your neighbors didn't like it when you took me in." 

"I'm too old and cranky to worry about what everyone else thinks. I make up my own mind, no matter what meddling relatives or neighbors say. When Hradekt... Spokesman Ralkliv asked for my help I couldn't turn him down, you see he and my son used to be good friends back in school, as a boy he spent more time at my house than he did at his own." There was a look of pain and sadness, Arthur knew he had a son who died long ago but Jakt never talked about it. 

"You would have liked my boy, he was always laughing; my wife thought I was a bad influence on him. He was a little rebellious but never did any harm... well, he painted the cat lime green one time but that was it. He loved animals, sometimes he would catch lizards or snakes and bring them right into the house and his mother would scream." Jakt had a distant look. "We used to camp out by the lake all the time, he loved to swim..."

Arthur warmed up by the stove and feeling returned. Jakt noticed the pain in Arthur's expression. "I have just the medicine that will make you feel better, and old friend of mine brought me a couple bottles last week, and I haven't tried it out yet; made from black currants." He retrieved a dark wine bottle from the cabinet and poured two small glasses.




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 10



Arthur sipped the silky dark liquid. "That's really good... medicine Mr. Jakt; I feel better already."

"Have you gone to where Rika Chorna River spills into the lake?" Jakt asked.

Arthur nodded. "They had us repairing a washed out hiking trail on the north side of the river."

Jakt smiled crookedly. "We used to rent a little cabin over on the north bank and spend a week up there every summer. My boy caught his first fish right on that riverbank when he was only five years old. He just cast in his lure when a huge pike-perch struck, it was 60cm long at least; he refused all help and pulled it in all by himself." Jakt chuckled. "He got so mad when he found out I wanted to cook it, he grabbed it up in his arms and said he was taking it back home and letting it live in the bathtub." We finally compromised and let it go back into the river." Jakt's smile faded. "You know, that really doesn't seem like so long ago."

A couple glasses the wine made Arthur think less about the pain, now he simply felt exhausted, the sleepless night and the stressful morning took its toll. Jakt was still drinking when Arthur excused himself to go lay down a while. 

---------

Arthur didn't sleep; he just rested. The fifty welts throbbed with every pulse; his wrists were sore too, he had pulled so hard to break free. After lying in bed for an hour, Arthur decided he had had enough; the dried sweat felt sticky and dirty.

Feeling absolutely subhuman and smelling like something dead, he managed to get up while keeping his legs nearly straight. Arthur groaned as he stiffly shuffled down the shadowy hallway; loose floor boards creaked underfoot, his metal collar reflected lamplight. In the front room Mr. Jakt had the door to his woodstove open; he crouched down stoking the fire. When Mr. Jakt looked up Arthur nearly said: "Fire Bad!" like Frankenstein's monster. He turned into the bathroom instead; Mr. Jakt never got his movie references anyway.

Arthur felt better after bathing; he got out his notebook and wrote a four page letter to his sister and then it was nearing church time. He told Mr. Jakt that he'd be out late and then Arthur took a deep breath and stepped out into the shockingly cold evening air. He had on his work boots and nothing else; Samantha insisted that the government issued orange poncho was simply too unfashionable to wear, even at night. 

Arthur met Samantha at her host's house and then they boarded a bus and then a trolley took them the final distance downtown. They exited onto a wide stone walkway that led to the church. It was easy to see which people were heading to the Cathedral; all worshipers excepting penitents and criminals wore traditional black prayer robes.

Samantha marveled at how many people walked toward the Church on such a blustery evening: "Gotta be a couple hundred at least."

"Those robes don't look very thick either, and I think they're naked underneath..." Arthur watched as a particularly strong gust hit a group of worshipers as they climbed the polished marble stairs. "Yep... they're naked alright!"

"Ooo..." Samantha shivered. "I'm freezing my...everything off." Samantha hugged up close to Arthur as they waited in line to enter. "It's gotta be warm in there!"

When they passed through the two ancient wood and bronze doors Samantha and Arthur just watched and waited, trying to do what everyone else did. People sat on benches and removed their shoes. They stored their footwear in a long narrow side room lined with shelves. Arthur put two pair of criminal boots into a cubby space and when he came back out most of the worshipers had taken their places inside the gigantic main hall.

Arthur frowned. This didn't look like a Christian church at all. Where were criminals, foreigners, nonbelievers supposed to go? A slim young woman in a full length black dress saw their confusion and walked toward them.

Samantha whispered: "Do we have to kneel?"

"I don't think so..."

The priestess said a few words that Arthur didn't recognize, something from their scriptures maybe.

"Ma'am; this is our first time going to church... a Danubian service I mean and um... we don't know what to do." Arthur gestured: "This is Samantha Sherman, my name is Arthur Liggett."

As soon as she heard the accent she understood. The priestess spoke slowly and clearly, introducing herself with a name that Arthur was sure he couldn't pronounce without practice.

"It is good to have you here at the temple," the priestess handed Samantha the last copy of the hymns and seemed embarrassed that she didn't have one for Arthur.

"Thank you," Arthur said. "One's good enough ma'am... or uh... priestess, Samantha reads a lot better than I do anyway." 

The priestess's brow furrowed: "Have you not been here long?"

"About half a year."

The priestess didn't approve. "Are you not in a language class?"

"Samantha is. I haven't really had the chance. I have been trying to teach myself though."

She tilted her head slightly, scrutinizing Arthur. "Have we met? You seem familiar."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably; he hated being recognized. "Uh... it's possible that you could have seen me on television or in the newspaper, I'm the uh... spy."

She took a sharp breath and nodded slightly. "Oh yes I... I remember." She looked to each criminal in turn in a friendly way: "You are both welcome here... please come this way."

Arthur and Samantha attended their first Danubian Church service that night; it was interesting but not nearly as weird as Arthur expected. It really didn't last long either, just a half hour or so. Before Arthur and Samantha left the young priestess even took the time to come all the way to the entrance just to thank them for attending.

The night was frigid and Arthur was sore but he definitely didn't want to say goodnight to Samantha yet so they took a bus to the criminal's club. The club's seats were less than half full and there was an instrumental group performing on stage. Samantha found a table in a shady corner; the band was finishing up as Arthur hobbled back with a couple drinks.

Arthur looked around curiously; he hadn't been inside the club in months. "Heck, the show's over already?"

"No," Samantha explained. "They leave the stage open certain times to let people talk... you know, about their sentences, the suffering, things they lost since their convictions... mostly they just want to get something off their chests... to be heard by people who know what they're going through."

Arthur took a sip; leaning his shoulder carefully against the wall he stood beside his seated girlfriend. "God, I miss real beer."

"Arthur, do me a favor... please don't go up there, you'd totally mess it up."

Arthur got all indignant then: "And just how do you know that I wouldn't have some pretty compelling things to say? I suffer too you know... I mean, you should taste this beer, it isn't even cold; and heck, I can't sit down right now, how bout that? And yesterday I got a letter from Tee and it turns out that my dog has a rash on his belly."

"Arthur," Samantha rolled her eyes. "No one wants to hear you complain about beer or how much your butt hurts..." Samantha stretched upright looking at the first speaker. "Hey... I know her, it's um... Katya, I work with her sometimes at the hospital."

Arthur figured the speaker was about Samantha's age; she had the typical dark brown hair made up in tight braids, broad across the brow, big expressive eyes that drew you in. She bit her bottom lip nervously before she began; Katya was obviously shy but she did have a good speaking voice once she got started. Arthur sipped his warm beer and listened. As he had expected it was an awfully depressing story.

The young woman was from one of the small agricultural villages to the east. She had never gotten into any trouble until she did something reckless in her seventeenth year. She had badly wanted a certain dress though she didn't have the money to buy it. It was, she said, a split second decision in the store's dressing room. She had the dress on, admiring herself in the mirror and she had just... slipped her old dress over the top and walked out. 

Everyone in that small town had heard about the theft, though there was only one person who knew who the culprit really was. She had the dress hidden in the bedroom she shared with her little sister but she couldn't dare wear it without getting caught. It was no longer something that she desired; it became a source of constant worry and guilt.

Katya broke down crying when she told of the horrible day when she returned home from school with books in her hands. She had opened the door and inside the front room was her mother, sitting in a chair and holding that stolen dress in her lap. Her own parents had turned her into the police. 

Now Katya lived like an outcast in the household of a distant aunt. She had been taken away from home, abandoned by family and friends, and made to live in shame. Someday she hoped to regain her honor and the trust people had lost in her. Katya had two more years left to serve, and unless the government deemed her trustworthy, she would have to spend the rest of her sentence inside the Rika Chorna collar zone.

Several more criminals spoke and most of them had similar stories of loss, or abandonment. Girlfriends or boyfriends who left them, family members who won't speak with them anymore; one young man, who was a senior in high school, told how his parents even made him get on his knees to speak. After hearing all that, Arthur started feeling better about his own family. Sure there were lazy bastards, dirt bags, crazies and cheaters but next to these unyielding and cold Danubians even his mother was starting to look like a saint.

Samantha went to the restroom and on her way back Arthur noticed that she stopped by a table in front of the stage and talked to several young women and a few guys she knew.

When she got back Arthur gestured toward the group. "So those are your friends from work?"

"Um, yeah." Samantha nervously took a drink. 

"They aren't going to invite you over because of me, right?" Arthur asked. "Not going to share a table with the spy."

Samantha looked down at her glass. "They just know you from stuff they've heard... they... I don't know..." She sighed. "It's almost a religious thing..."

"They think I'm corrupted, a liar, an enemy, someone beyond redemption?"

Samantha shook her head. "They... I don't know... they just don't understand."

Arthur stood in silence and finished his beer. He wanted to fix this problem. Samantha shouldn't have to stay separated from her friends because of him. And most of all he didn't want to lose her.

Arthur understood why they shunned him, but didn't know what to do about it. Then, just as they were about to leave, a young criminal stepped up on stage and the crowd's demeanor changed; they didn't look friendly at all.

The young man was obviously very uncomfortable behind the microphone; his voice quivered as he introduced himself. The Danubians watched suspiciously as he made a public apology on stage, in front of his peers. Arthur couldn't understand everything but it seemed that the young man had broken some kind of big social taboo in the process of committing a theft, and then on top of all that, he had repeatedly lied to his family and friends.

With tears in his eyes he explained his actions, apologized, and then, after breaking down crying a couple times he regained some composure and vowed to redeem himself. The reaction of the crowd was remarkable to Arthur; they went from hostile to friendly in minutes. He was apparently forgiven just like that. This peculiar scene gave Arthur an idea for yet another plan.

That night Arthur just couldn't stop thinking about the speech. After trying to go to sleep for an hour Arthur climbed out of bed, grabbed his notebook and started scribbling out an apology speech that followed the general format of the one he had heard earlier, an hour later it was complete. Satisfied, Arthur put away the notebook and went back to bed, now all he had to work on was the stirring delivery!

---------

The next morning Arthur stepped off the bus in a bad mood. It was dark and cold. He had to report to the Ministry of Natural Resources even before sunrise. All the pain from the previous day's switching didn't help. Arthur pushed past several bus drivers, equipment operators, and clerks loitering about on the steps.

Inside was a surprise: the priestess he had met at church the day before was waiting on him, with a couple books in her hands.

"Arthur," She said. "I brought these for you."

"Um..." Arthur flipped through the workbook.

"Arthur, I expect you to complete those lessons in the next couple weeks; you can mail those back, and I will send you more."

Arthur was baffled: "But uh... why is..."

"Now, I don't want to hear any argument from you." The priestess spoke sternly but with a kind expression: "I checked up on you, Arthur Liggett; you have a university degree back in America so I know you can handle some basic textbooks."

"Yes ma'am..."

She raised a finger and reminded: "Priestess."

"Oh... Yes priestess... of course I will do my best."

The priestess left and Arthur hurried to the receptionist's desk; it was just two minutes until time to check in. Then he had to wait for a ride back up to the lake. Arthur decided to examine the books. The cheap paperback workbooks had the title printed in English, French and Spanish: An Introduction to the Danubian Language part 1 and 2. The priestess included a short handwritten letter inside the first book; a little puzzle to figure out.

---------

The Ministry of Natural Resources gave Arthur several days off during the week of the spring equinox. Unlike the Danubians, Arthur wasn't all that concerned about the equinox celebration; he had something entirely different on his mind.

The timing was right; he had practiced and practiced. It was time to go for it. The first day of spring seemed like a good time for a new start. Samantha was a nervous wreck and decided not to watch his speech.

The main room of the criminal club was about at half capacity. Arthur checked to make sure that Samantha's friends from work were there, right in front of the stage. Arthur signed up to speak, then went over to the lunch counter and ordered a plate of the hottest food the criminal's club had to offer.

The Enormous main hall was nearly full, rows of tightly packed tables arced in a semi-circle around the elevated stage. The lights dimmed and the first speaker nervously stepped behind the microphone to share his troubles with his criminal peers. The young man was very emotional, sincere, and repentant. Arthur watched closely, that was exactly the look he was hoping to pull off.

Arthur's food arrived but he waited until the 14th speaker got up on stage before he took a bite. Ten minutes later a tearful young woman finished her talk and it was time. Arthur forced himself to chew up the last red pepper and then he walked up on stage. With his face red, eyes watering, and sweat beading on his forehead, he stood behind the microphone facing a couple hundred criminals in the audience. Arthur began to speak as soon as the room grew quiet.

"I'm known by three names. My given name is Arthur Liggett, my official name is Criminal # 88588, but most people in this country know me as the American spy. The details of my crimes are common knowledge but the reason I'm here today is that I wanted to tell my side of the story."

The skeptical, suspicious looks he received were unsettling but not unexpected. The news media had painted Arthur as a villainous foreign agent intent on stealing Danubia's natural resources. Changing minds, however, was the whole reason for this speech. Arthur swallowed hard; his mouth was really starting to burn.

Arthur started out by describing his life before the ill-fated trip to Europe. Since he knew Danubians were obsessed with family life he talked about his family. Arthur didn't overtly lie but the truth was stretched nearly to the breaking point when it came to telling how close he was to his mother. Then, for the girls in the audience, he figured he'd throw in a tale of lost love: the heartbreaking story of the girl he left behind. Arthur decided to omit certain parts about the epic drunken two-weekend romance with Charlotte. For the dog lovers in the audience he even mentioned Lucky.

Then it was time for the meat of the speech. The story of how he became involved in espionage. He would walk a fine line. Realistic enough to be plausible, but he wanted to appear decent and virtuous enough for people to sympathize with. Arthur would play the part of a man who tragically let greed overcome his conscience.

When he got to the part about being offered money he paused dramatically, looked out into the audience and said what he hoped was a good emotion charged line.

"It was a very suspicious deal that he offered but I got greedy and... I took the money anyway." Arthur paused then, looking down as though he felt great shame at his sinful ways. He kept it brief though, not wanting to overdo it.

Next Arthur moved on to the action-packed sequence, the intrigue with Rumak, the tense trip to Rika Chorna, culminating with the confrontation between Rumak and the policeman.

"Then there was gunfire... three shots. And I... I found myself all alone, at a crime scene in a foreign country... I didn't know what to do so I slipped out the back door and I ran. It didn't take them long to find me."

With a pained expression, that thanks to the peppers was very real, Arthur studied the audience. He had their full attention now. Arthur focused on his timing, pausing four seconds to give the impression that he was having another one of his soul-searching moments.

Arthur briefly described his arrest and trial, and then he shifted into what Samantha suggested would be an effective tactic; using the betrayal of trust between his old boss and him to gain sympathy. The story of the phone call was mostly true. This part of the speech, Samantha insisted, needed to be tragic instead of angry. Arthur's nose was running some from the peppers. He sniffed a little and wiped tears out of his eyes. 

"My old boss," Arthur said, "was surprised to hear from me."

'Arthur,' He said. 'I'm so sorry about what happened. Now, I don't want you to think that I knew what was going on, believe me, I was just as surprised as you were that this thing was illegal. I wish there was something I could do.'

"He seemed real friendly until I brought up the subject of his testimony. He paused for a long while, and then told me that the corporate lawyers just wouldn't allow him to expose the company to the financial liability or the scandal it would cause."

The audience seemed more sympathetic now. As he had hoped, the tale of his boss's calculating self-interest shocked the Danubians. Arthur paused and tried to look like the old bastard's betrayal deeply hurt him.

"After I failed to get Mr. Neal's testimony I had no legal grounds for retrial or reduced sentence, but my spokesman thought there was a small chance to work out a deal directly between the US and Danubian governments. So I contacted my congressman, the State Department, and everyone else I could think of who might help me but in the past eleven months I've received nothing but polite form letters back.

Now, I've come to the harsh realization that I'm not going to be released anytime soon. My situation here is difficult. The police blame me for their colleague's injuries, the general population thinks I'm an enemy of the state, and the American government considers me a liability. I realize, at this point, that I'm nearly alone."

He paused then, as tears and sweat ran down his cheeks. Arthur thought he maybe overdid it with the peppers; he wanted to look emotional, not like a burn victim. His tongue, lips, and throat were absolutely on fire but he forced himself to refocus on the speech; to make the impact he was looking for, he needed to finish strong.




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 10



"I know I should have asked more questions; I should have known better than to take that deal. I regret the mistakes I made but there's nothing I can do about it now except suffer the consequences. But I want you to know that I'm not your enemy, I'm not a danger to anyone, I'm just a foreign criminal who's trying to move on with his life. Even though I don't deserve it... I came here today to ask for your forgiveness."

Arthur walked off stage, doing his best to mimic the humble, pensive expressions that he had seen from the previous speakers. The crowd's warm response was encouraging but all Arthur could think about right then was the large glass of icy goodness waiting for him on his table.

He sat down and it wasn't thirty seconds before one of Samantha's friends came over to invite him to sit at their table. Arthur had to put down the icy drink and act like his mouth wasn't boiling. Samantha would be along soon, and she would be sooo happy! Arthur cringed... oh, the things you do for love!



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 11



Chapter 11: Bad Company

Theresa Liggett had a window seat in the second passenger car. The seat was un-cushioned with an almost straight back; it was almost as uncomfortable as all the attention she was receiving.

Passengers bounced in unison every second or so as the old train rolled over welded joints and swayed to the curvature of the tracks. Tee had never ridden on a train before but she was certain that the Danubian rail system was not up to modern European standards; it was only a hundred and eighty miles from Danube City to Rika Chorna but the trip was supposed to take three and a half hours. It wasn't even air conditioned, a fact hard to miss in the last week of August.

Tee had gotten a phone call from her brother two weeks earlier urging her to come visit him in Danubia. It was peculiar since he hadn't said anything about a trip before then, but that day he nearly insisted upon it. Tee used about a quarter of the money that her paranoid brother had kept hidden in his freezer to pay for travel and two days lodging in Rika Chorna. Her mother was completely freaked out but Tee went anyway. 

The train slowed considerably as it climbed the pass; two miles away and two-thousand feet below the sun reflected off the choppy waters of the Rika Chorna Reservoir. The train passed through a short tunnel and then the view to the east opened up.

Rugged slopes and hardwood forests transitioned into rolling hills and green pastures dotted with sheep, cattle, farmhouses, and barns. The rural landscape stretched on for several kilometers and then ended abruptly; the western boundary of Rika Chorna was like a solid wall of buildings on the plains.

Factories, loading docks, and shipping containers stacked two high filled an industrial park on the right side of the tracks; on the left side multiple freight trains occupied the parallel tracks of a busy rail yard. 

The train passed through into a residential zone with multistory apartment buildings, a city park with a sizable lake, and rows of small houses stretching far to the north. The train station was almost exactly in the city's center. 

Air brakes hissed, the train car shuddered one last time and Tee's first train ride was over. She grabbed her old suitcase and stepped outside.

The station was obviously old, built of gray marble and hardwood beams; some select pieces of marble encrusted with brilliant mineral veins of green malachite and blue azurite formed an arch around the main entrance.

Everyone turned to look at her; Tee usually enjoyed being the center of attention but she had never felt this out of place. The Danubians all looked so similar. Every female above high school age had her hair tightly braided and wore simple light dresses and sandals. The men kept their hair and beards trimmed short and wore plain pants and shirts. The Danubians wore no jewelry, no watches, no make-up, and definitely no weird multicolored spiky hairdo like the one that Tee sported.

Tee's breath caught in her throat when she saw a naked man and woman standing casually near the unloading platform. The woman held a child's hand; the boy, probably about five years old, was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt.

Tee stared at their necks. The metal collars they had clamped around their necks had turned dull grey with age but the numbers engraved on the wide central band were large and easily readable. The man was # 65722 and his wife: # 65764.

Tee's heart raced. Criminals! Convicted collared criminals like her brother. It was one thing to read about it but to see it in person was shocking. Were those faded bruises on the woman's bottom?

Tee knelt down on one knee and pretended to tie her shoelace. The two criminals talked casually while they waited; the boy tugged insistently on his mother's hand, trying to get her attention. Then an elderly man and woman unloaded from the first passenger car. The two criminals warmly greeted the old couple and the little boy screamed out with joy when he saw the wrapped present that the old woman carried.

Tee made herself stop staring at the weird scene. The station had a couple hundred people in it and none of them seemed to think there was anything unusual about having naked criminals in their midst. Forty meters across the station Tee found a map that was labeled in English. For reasons he didn't explain Arthur insisted on meeting her at a small park south of the station.

Tee walked rapidly down a stone path with hedges to either side. It led to an open space with mowed grass, big shade trees, and a view overlooking a small river. A family was eating supper at one of the picnic tables with a good view of the stream; another couple sat on a bench and watched their three kids play ball. The park was otherwise empty. 

"Tee, it's hard to believe you showed up on time." She jumped and spun around to see Arthur leaning against a tree trunk wearing nothing but a collar and dusty orange boots. 

Tee caught her breath and tried to not look embarrassed. "Hey, nice shoes." 

"You like them?" Arthur's face was red as well, but he kept his cool and glanced slyly to both sides. "Don't tell anyone but I've got a special deal with the Ministry of Justice. In exchange for thirty years of hard labor I get as many of these awesome orange boots as I need."

Arthur looked Tee over. "Are you in costume? Don't tell me, let me guess... You're a colorblind gypsy? A whore from a Mad Max movie?" 

"You have no sense of fashion Arthur. But even you have to admit that my new hairstyle is pretty awesome." 

"Yeah, the colors are really... festive, but how do you get it to stand up like that? By the way, thanks for toning it down like I asked." 

"Anything for my troublesome brother; what are you called?" She examined the collar with a curious expression, then reached up and rotated it to find the engraving. "So 88588... How's the espionage business going these days?" 

"So, so. This place is so primitive I hardly know what to spy on; I did manage to infiltrate a work camp to the west of here but that's about it." 

Tee was still messing with the collar, "So these are tracking collars?" Then she put an index finger through the loop. "What do they do, walk you on a leash?" Tee burst out laughing. "Is that why you're in the park?" 

"Tee," Arthur struggled to look serious. "I had almost forgotten how much I hate you." 

Tee wagged a finger. "Don't make me roll up a newspaper!" 

"Fair warning." Arthur said. "I don't have my shots!" 

Tee noticed the other people in the park watching her. "I'm freaking starving. Where can we eat at anyway? I'll pay," Tee bugged her eyes out: "I really don't want to know where you keep your money." 

Arthur grinned. "Criminals don't carry money; we have to charge everything using the number on the collar." 

"So your collar's like a credit card?" Tee was amused. "Let's go to a store; I wanna run your head across the scanner!" 

"Uh... It's more like an ID, they just write the number down. Uh... before we go...you remember what I told you about this place? You know, about the lying, respecting the religion, public officials and such? You're no use to me if you're in here too, you know." 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. You're the one who can't stay out of trouble." 

"Point taken; so, you still going out with that Roddy guy?" 

Tee sighed and brushed her spiky hair back. "Nah, he couldn't stand my lizards anymore; they've really grown since you saw them. Over three feet long, can you believe it? I told him to watch out for their tails; you know they're kind of sensitive about that. Anyway, one whipped him right across the nose when he sat down on the couch. He threw such a fit; so the boyfriend's gone." 

Arthur shrugged. "Well, gotta keep priorities straight... Anyhow, I can take you over to your hotel room and we can grab some food but after that I've gotta go visit the church." 

"They make you go to church?" 

"No, I go voluntarily; a guy's gotta have allies here you know. Besides, most criminals are religious." Arthur flicked his collar, trying not to laugh. "In fact, the Danubian Church teaches that all this criminal treatment is crucial in the process of realigning my damaged soul." 

"So do you think you're aligned yet?" 

"Nah, I guess it's gonna take a few more whacks." Arthur looked at Tee and sighed. "Here we are having one of our typical stupid conversations. I don't suppose you have anything important to talk about, something that you couldn't discuss over the phone or through the mail?" 

Tee's eyes darted right and left and then she stepped close. "Oh, yeah." She said in a hurried whisper. "I brought you something. You remember Strangler? He died this spring."

She reached into her bag searching for something inside. "Long story short; I've taken up taxidermy!" Tee pulled out a wide snakeskin belt that was over a meter long. With a smile that would have looked demented on anyone else Tee tossed it to her brother. "So what do you think?" 

To people in the park it surely appeared as if Arthur was having a seizure. The bout of fierce laughter left Arthur crouching on the ground, catching his breath for a moment before he could say anything at all.

"Tee if I could wear pants this belt would be the shit! I don't think they'll let me wear a belt even without pants, but if I could I would definitely have this on." 

Tee beamed in pride over his compliment of her leather crafting skills. Her big brother's laugh was something she had badly missed; it was good to see him again, though she would rather not have seen so much of him. 

After a while she watched her brother's demeanor change, Arthur seemed like he wanted to say something, but he stood in silence nervously looking around the park at nothing in particular. Tee waited. Her normally calm brother had a troubled expression. 

"Tee, before we go through the city, you need to know something. I have rules I have to follow, lots of restrictions. No clothes obviously and there are places I can't go. They tell me where to live, where to work; I'm twenty-four years old and I had to get permission to go out on a date with Samantha. I've been told a number of times that I'm nothing but government property!" 

Arthur's face was red. The furious expression seemed very out of ordinary for the even-tempered brother she was used to.

Arthur noticed her unease and lowered his voice somewhat, though he looked no calmer. "And I have to kneel down to public officials like I'm worshiping a fucking pagan god or something. Then there's the police... they don't harass me as much as they used to but if they decide to humiliate me in front of you there's nothing I can do about it. They can make me kneel with my head to the ground right out on the sidewalk for as long as they want. If they think I'm being defiant they may even hit me." 

Tee was taken aback by all this, but most of all by the change in her brother's personality; he had never been the type to act out of control in front of her.

Arthur looked at Tee and took a deep breath. He no longer looked angry, just miserable. "If they stop me don't do anything. Don't say anything... that would just make it worse on me... or you. No matter what they do to me, I've been through worse; just stand back." 

"OK, are you alright Arthur?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine." Though he quickly looked down Tee could see tears in her older brother's eyes. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Arthur barely more than whispered. "No Tee, I'm not alright." 

His shoulders trembled under her hand. Growing up, Tee had often run crying to her big brother for help. She hadn't seen him cry since their father died six years earlier. Tee rested her forehead on her brother's shoulder and Arthur hugged her tight. Her tears wet his shoulder and chest. 

Some of the Danubians turned to watch the curious scene; wondering why the convicted criminal and the weird foreign girl stood together in silence at the edge of their city park.

---------

That evening Arthur wanted Samantha and Laura to meet Tee. They crowded into Tee's hotel room and had the usual awkward introductions.

"Samantha, Laura this is my sister Tee."

Samantha asked: "Tee's short for Theresa?" 

Arthur chuckled. "Nope, you see dad used to be a golfer and when my sister was little she had a bad habit of sticking things where they didn't belong so one day a doctor had to remove a..." 

"Arthur, really!" Tee punched him in the shoulder. "Why don't you tell them why everyone in grade school used to call you Squirts?" 

"Squirts!" Samantha rolled back on the bed laughing. "Now this, I want to hear." 

"Uh... Maybe we should go somewhere," Arthur suggested. "So we don't have to talk so much." 

"We could go to the club; I was going to meet Demetri there anyway." Laura was spending a lot of time with her Danubian boyfriend; though Arthur had barely met him.

"I'm game," Tee said. "There's definitely nothing to do here; it's been years since I've even seen a black and white television, this place is like going back in time." 

"Or another planet," Arthur remarked. "But Tee can't go in the criminal's club; we'll have to do something else." 

"She can go in as a guest." Laura argued: "It's her clothes that have to stay outside." 

"No way," Arthur forcefully said. "I don't want to see my little sister naked. It's bad enough that I have to walk around like this. She is..." 

"Capable of making up her own mind?" Tee looked mischievously at Arthur, before snorting at his annoyed expression. "Well, as much as I would like to irritate Arthur I guess we will have to find something else to do; besides, with an outfit like this I want to be seen." 

"Tee, with an outfit like that people can't help but stare; it makes me wish I was blind."

The four of them walked up to the entrance of the club, Samantha and Laura went inside along with a line of other criminals. Tee was wide eyed as a young criminal who had probably been switched that morning walked carefully past her and made his way toward the entrance. 

"Holy cow!" Tee whispered. 

"That's India, not here. Why don't we get going?" 

"I knew it would be bad but... shit, did they beat you like that?" 

"Yes," Arthur sighed. "Standard criminal treatment." 

"Just once?" 

"Every three months. Come on, let's go." 

"Damn that must hurt; how do you stand it?" 

"I don't know, you just do. Quit staring and let's go already." 

"Shit! What about Samantha and Laura; they surely don't beat the women too?" 

"Oh yes they do, twice a year. Now let's see if we can find that movie theater." 

There were two posters at the front of the theater, both in Japanese. Old monster movies apparently. "What do you think the one about the giant mutant rat or the one about aliens?" 

"Uh..." Tee got a close look. "The rodent's kind of cute... looks like one of those giant hamster looking things they have down in South America." 

"Capybaras?" 

"Yeah, that's it. Looks better than the alien movie anyway." 

"There aren't any American made movies here." Arthur looked for the entrance. "Maybe they at least have popcorn. I doubt it though, they probably say it's junk food. At the concession stand I bet they'll hand us a bowl of oatmeal and a spoon. Speaking of the movie we should get our tickets." 

 ---------

Thanks to Spokesman Ralkliv, Arthur had the next day off work. Tee would leave on the 11PM train but until then they would spend the day together. Though Arthur didn't particularly like it, the first order of business was to introduce Tee to his spokesman.

He was nervous about it for a couple reasons. First being how embarrassing it was to kneel in front of Tee and the second was that he was worried about what she might say. Tee wasn't known for her discretion.

Arthur showed up at her hotel room half an hour before sunrise. He knocked and waited, knocked again, then pounded. He heard a groan and she finally opened the door. Tee squinted, half asleep, and stood there wrapped in a blanket off the bed. "Oh... it's you."

"Who else would it be? I didn't come over here to watch you sleep, we've got stuff to do."

She just groaned and lurched into the bathroom and Arthur went downstairs to order some breakfast.

Tee came out of the bathroom wrapped up in a towel; Arthur was relieved that all the glitter and colors washed out of her hair.

"This is kind of like grits..." Arthur pushed a large steaming bowl toward his sister. "And that's black currant jelly... pretty good."

"Mmm..." Tee sat chewing for a while. "So, where's this Ravik guy at?"

Arthur gestured northeast. "Spokesman Ralkliv has an office over at the Police Headquarters, fourth floor. We shouldn't have to stay that long, but we have to do this a certain way though. We check in with the secretary, and then he'll come out of his office, and uh... I'll have to kneel down and greet him, then he'll give me permission to stand and I'll introduce you. Then he'll invite us into his personal office for coffee."

"That Is So Weird! Look!" Tee exclaimed, pointing at the breakfast table. "They brought us three spoons! For two bowls!"

"Hmm... that is weird," Arthur said. "I could see two spoons or four spoons... um... but never mind that. I was wondering if you could braid your hair first; it might go better if you blended in."

"Um... I guess so... Pig tails?"

"No, uh you know... like Danubian style."

"I don't know how to do that." Tee dumped the rest of the sweet black currant jelly on a small loaf of bread. "How bout a ponytail?"

"Uh... no, Danubian women don't let their hair hang down. Maybe if we get some safety pins and... like fasten the braids up on top your head somehow?"

Tee shrugged as she wiped jelly off her mouth and gulped a whole glass of juice. She jumped up. "I've gotta pee."

"You go do that; I'll be right back." Arthur gathered up the dishes and carried the tray to the kitchen downstairs.

Arthur returned fifteen minutes later holding a brown paper bag. "Hey."

"In here." Tee wore a fairly plain green dress. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror finishing up one of two braids. "What ya got?"

Arthur shrugged. "There's a hardware store down the street. Um..." He dumped the bag on the counter. "Got rubber bands, some fishing line and double stick tape."

"Great."

"Oh..." Arthur thought of something. "No ear-rings and that tattoo of yours; make sure it's always covered. Danubians freak out over that sort of thing."

"You mean Rufus?"

Arthur asked: "You have another one?"

"Wanna see?"

"Long as it's not on your butt or something."

Tee put her leg up on a chair. "See."

"Oh... it's a... one of those..."

"It's a tapir, Arthur." Tee exclaimed. "Geez, don't you know anything?"

"I know... it's uh... the biggest animal in South America right?"

"It's a mountain tapir," she gestured like: 'who doesn't know that?' "

"Second largest?" Arthur waved his hands. "Never mind... we can't let any Danubians know you have those. Long as you keep your dress on, your old tattoo should be covered... but the new one... hmm... we need to do something about that."

"Why do I have to do all this?" Tee whined. "It's so stupid."

"It's religion Tee; it's not supposed to make sense." Arthur's eyes narrowed as he concentrated. "Now... maybe we can paint over it?"

"Arthur, I just don't understand why you didn't go further in the spy business."

---------

Arthur opened the door for his sister, which she thought was really funny. Arthur really wished Tee hadn't found out that Danubian criminals were forced to be helpful. Arthur figured at that very moment, Tee was thinking about all the stuff she could have him do for her.

The outer lounge to the spokesperson's offices had a large counter with a receptionist's desk behind it. Twenty chairs were along the wall; alternating between orange ones for criminals and gray ones for free people. Arthur placed a clean towel in the seat of an orange metal chair and Tee sat on a gray cushioned seat next to him.




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 11



Ralkliv came out to meet them a couple minutes early. Arthur whispered one last thing to his sister. "That's him... remember, he speaks English." Arthur knelt on the floor and Ralkliv had him get up almost immediately. After introductions, Ralkliv invited them back to his personal office.

As Tee walked in front of him, Arthur spotted some double-stick tape in her hair but the rest of it looked pretty good. The tattoo above her right knee was painted over with white latex and topped in flesh tone makeup... hopefully it wouldn't show even when she sat down.

Arthur's apprehension didn't last; not one minute after they sat down, Spokesman Ralkliv's secretary interrupted. Ralkliv excused himself to take an important phone call.

Tee felt at the back of her head. "Um Arthur, it's coming loose, got any more tape?"

Arthur scoffed: "Where would I carry tape?"

"Well... you could jam it up your..."

"Wait... hey," Arthur dug through Ralkliv's junk drawer. "How about a paperclip?" Arthur heard Ralkliv coming and sat back down.

When Ralkliv came back into the room he was so nervous that without even realizing, he spoke to Tee in Danubian. He apologized for having to leave the meeting early; Ralkliv explained that he had an emergency to manage.

Tee watched Ralkliv hurry off. "What was that all about?"

Arthur was happy to cut the meeting short. "His wife's going to the hospital to have a baby, I think... Danubians are really reserved when talking about that sort of thing, so they don't come right out and say it. Good news is: we're off the hook!"

Tee shrugged. "So now what?"

"Well..." Arthur looked out the window thinking. "Mr. Jakt wants to meet you later but right now... how bout we go for a walk?"

Tee and Arthur walked down by the river and then he took his sister to see his home. Arthur gave Tee the big tour of the house, proudly pointing out his bedroom with its refinished wooden desk, his repaired table lamp and his freshly painted wooden chair.

Mr. Jakt was fascinated by Tee and she, of course, lapped up the attention. That evening Mr. Jakt broke out a bottle of homemade wine, and then he taught Tee a traditional Danubian song. What the performance lacked in quality it made up for in enthusiasm and volume. Arthur stayed busy serving as translator; not very accurate but quick enough for a lively conversation.

Early the next morning Arthur escorted Tee to the train station and then Arthur headed directly for the Ministry of Natural Resources building. It was time to check in and see what his next job was.

He hoped to stay in the city for a while but the MNR had other ideas. A ranger had requested help in clearing storm debris around one of the remote campgrounds. The job was scheduled to last three months.

---------

Samantha was waiting when Arthur came back to Rika Chorna during the first week in December. She spent her very limited free time with Arthur but she couldn't bring herself to be happy. The dread of what was to come overwhelmed her.

On December 7th Samantha went through her normal day. She got up early and prepared breakfast for her host's two kids, and then she went off to work her morning shift at the hospital. Samantha focused on her work and performed it well as she always did.

It was a long ten hours later when Samantha finished her daily rounds; she pushed a cart of dinner trays back into the kitchen beside the big stainless steel sinks. Samantha straightened her back and stretched her shoulders; it had been a long shift and Samantha was ready to leave work.

In the nurse's locker room her friend Katya was getting ready for her night shift; she waited by Samantha's locker.

"Are you going to be alright?"

Samantha barely nodded. "I'm fine."

"Are you going to see Arthur tonight?" Katya spoke softly: "You shouldn't be alone."

Samantha nodded. "He's going to meet me later."

"Good... I talked to your shift supervisor; she got you an easier shift Thursday, no kitchen or laundry... just delivering patient meals."

Samantha tried hard to smile. "I really appreciate it Katya. Thanks. I... I think I better get going... don't want to miss the bus."

Samantha left the hospital through a side entrance. Instead of the huge parking lots that surround hospitals in other countries, the Rika Chorna Medical Center was encircled by gardens and trees. But it was almost winter; the flowers were dormant, the tree limbs were bare and the sky looked like snow.

Samantha walked quickly to the bus stop. She found that the small heated shelter was almost full; she waited by the window as even more people packed inside. When the bus came she lined up last, behind the free people and a couple penitents. The bus quickly filled to capacity, so that Samantha and the last six people in line were left to wait for the next ride.

Samantha took it well; it was nothing really, just a little inconvenience. Being a Danubian criminal had completely changed her point of view on what constitutes a bad day. She waited patiently and looked out the window at the blowing leaves. It was the seventh of December, a year and a half after her arrest. Samantha thought of that horrible night. 

The warning that Arthur had given them about Danubia's strict drug laws had scared them, though not nearly enough. Instead of throwing their drugs out immediately they kept their stash hidden in the hotel room and continued to use.

June 7th 1992 was supposed to be their last night in Danubia. They had gone into their hotel room that night and retrieved what was left of the stash. That night they got incredibly high and then did something incredibly careless.

Police were waiting for them when they returned to the hotel that night. They were forced to strip naked right out on the street. The experience only got worse with the interrogation at police headquarters, the trial, and the switching. She and Laura had endured the punishment three times already; their fourth switching was scheduled for the eighth day of December. 

Samantha shivered as the bus stop's folding door opened. There were fewer people waiting for the bus this time; Samantha got aboard and in fifteen minutes she was back at her host's house.

Inside, the kids were waiting and their mother was irritable at her for being late.

"The children have been waiting for almost an hour!" The woman glared. "Where have you been?"

Samantha wanted to smash her fist right into the woman's thin nose but she knew her place as a criminal. Samantha dropped to her knees, apologized for being late and then she got to work in the kitchen.

Arthur came by after she had put the kids put to bed. Samantha's home was just a short cold walk from the criminal's club and their chance to be alone. They went straight to one of the small rooms in back. Arthur shut the door behind them; once they were alone Samantha began to cry. There was no need to explain; Arthur understood perfectly her dread of the next day's punishment. He held her tight in his arms, supporting her weight as she clung to his chest.

After a few minutes she recovered some. "I'm sorry... I thought it would get easier but... I feel just as terrified." 

"I know... there'd be something wrong with you if you weren't scared." Arthur said gently. "As bad as it is, it will end; and tomorrow you'll be closer to the day when you can leave this place behind and go back home." 

"But you'll still be here." Samantha looked up. "I'm not leaving you behind." 

Arthur's voice rose. "Now don't even think about staying because of me. When you get the chance... go. What kind of life do you think you'd have here anyway? They'll send me off to some labor camp and you'd be all alone... think about it Samantha, you're a foreigner; you'll always be a foreigner here. You can have a good life back in the US; you have your family, your friends, your church."

Samantha spoke quietly: "But I love you."

Arthur was unable to speak for a while. "I love you too but... you can do better Samantha... I mean... do you know how messed up I am? By the time you're released I'll probably be a drooling lunatic in a padded room somewhere." 

Samantha leaned forward for a kiss. "You'll be my drooling lunatic." 

Arthur wiped the tears off her cheek with his thumb. "Let the other girls have the rich, successful, well- adjusted types; you want the messed up criminal who talks to himself and has to tie a rope on his collar every night so he doesn't go stomping through the neighbor's flowers." 

"You do that? You tie yourself up at night?" 

"Yeah, ever since last year. The judge said I don't get any more breaks, he said it was my responsibility to make sure I don't cause any more disturbances. The tether wakes me up before I can get out the door anyway. Last time I was sleepwalking a couple days ago I had one end tied to a table leg, I jerked the table over on its side but it woke me up at least. That reminds me, I need to buy a lamp tomorrow." Arthur collapsed to the mattress and looked up at Samantha, her lithe form back lit by the single light over the door.

Samantha smirked: "That was a very noble effort you made to push me away, Arthur. Like a hero out of a movie."

"Well... I try and be virtuous every once in a while. You kind of surprised me though, if I'd had more time I maybe could've come up with a better speech."

"No... it was sweet the way it was... I liked it," Samantha giggled, "but... it would have been more dignified if you hadn't had a big boner poking at me the whole time."

Arthur leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. "So are you just gonna stand there talking or are you going to do something about it?"

"Oh I'm gonna do something spyboy..." 

Samantha crawled atop him, straddling his hips, enjoying the warmth of his naked skin. "You're real damned weird Arthur, but you're not so bad... for an enemy spy that is." 

"And you aren't half bad either," Arthur replied, "for a petty criminal anyway."

------------ 

A year and a half after their arrest Samantha and Laura were once again on their knees in Spokesman Ralkliv's office. Their arresting officers handcuffed their wrists behind their backs and quickly got the two criminals to their feet. 

The officers marched the young women down to a corridor in the basement of the police headquarters. The door to the third room was open. The judge was seated at a desk along the far wall, there was a camera set up in the corner, and a metal table rested on the concrete floor near the center of the room. 

Spokesman Ralkliv had a brief discussion with the judge before addressing his clients. "Laura, you must go first. Samantha you will take a seat by me." 

Samantha sat and watched uncomfortably as her friend kneeled down and kissed the officer's shoe. The policeman moved Laura over to the end of the table and had her bend forward so that her bottom was presented in the direction of the judge. In a practiced efficient manner the policeman strapped her ankles securely to the metal table legs and bound her wrists and midsection firmly to the cold tabletop. There was a look of terror in her eyes but Laura remained silent. 

The policeman pulled the switch from his belt and whipped it through the air, and then he moved close, trailing his hand down her spine and over the curve of her bottom. Trying to catch her off guard, he stepped back quickly and landed the first blow. Laura gasped but remained otherwise quiet. 

Samantha flinched as the switch snapped against Laura's skin. Ten more fierce strikes of the switch left parallel lines swelling on the right side of Laura's bottom. The officer's cruel smile returned as Laura began crying from the pain of the switching and the humiliation of being touched by the policeman between strokes. Her pitiful sobs were punctuated by anguished screams as the punishment wore on. Samantha had to sit there and listen to it all knowing that she would be next. Ralkliv raised his hand after the fiftieth stroke. Laura sobbed hysterically as the policeman and his partner removed her restraints. 

The judge called for a short break to give Ralkliv time to deal with his client, and the judge time to return to his chambers and refill his coffee cup. Samantha walked quickly to the restroom at the end of the corridor. The door shut behind her and she turned to look at her own reflection in the mirror; the young woman's skin had lost all color.

Samantha's legs trembled, fear overwhelmed and she sunk into the corner crying hard. Samantha folded forward on her knees with her head clasped in both hands. It was so hard to face a switching stoically like Danubian criminals are supposed to. It took every bit of her will power to get up off the floor and face the switching with at least some dignity.

Samantha rinsed her face in cold water from the sink and then she studied her own reflection. A limber young woman's body; gracefully curved and pretty; Samantha thought her breasts were too small and her hips too slim and boyish. Arthur loved her body though, judging from how much time he spent kissing her breasts or kneeling between her thighs. Samantha smiled at the thought. The girl in the mirror still looked awfully scared but there was also a look of determination that she hadn't noticed before.

Five minutes passed before she heard footsteps on the concrete floor. There was a knock at the door.

Ralkliv's voice was kind but firm. "Samantha; it is time."

Samantha dried her face on a towel and stepped out into the corridor. Spokesman Ralkliv offered a few words of encouragement before directing his client back into the room and shutting the door behind him. Her eyes were already red from crying when she knelt down in front of the policeman who would punish her. 

The policeman ordered Samantha to position herself on the punishment table. She reluctantly placed her ankles against the leather restraints and bent forward across the cold tabletop. When all the restraints were buckled and the criminal was completely under his control, the policeman took careful aim and then struck five times across the lower curve of her bottom. Samantha shook from the pain but remained silent. Her resistance amused the officer. He traced the red lines swelling across the smooth skin of her buttocks, rubbing his fingers over sore flesh to increase the pain and further humiliate the criminal. 

The policeman, unable to make Samantha cry early in the punishment, became methodical; striking hard and leaving parallel welts from the apex of her buttocks down to her thighs. Though Samantha made every effort to resist, she couldn't help but cry out and jerk at the restraints as he began to overlap the welts on her bottom and the pain became unbearable. 

The last part of the punishment went at an agonizingly slow pace. He whipped the tender skin of her punished bottom and thighs with the flexible switch and then waited a full minute before he took aim and struck again.

By the time the switching ended Samantha was completely broken down, too lost in the pain to care about anything else. Samantha's beaten backside was presented before the judge so he could certify the punishment, and like any criminal she had to kneel down, kiss her tormentor's shoes and thank him for the punishment he had inflicted upon her. With her fourth judicial punishment completed, a violently sobbing Samantha took the painful humiliating walk back to her spokesman's office. 

--------- 

Arthur knocked on the door and waited in the frigid night air. He was wearing his orange work boots but not the insulated poncho that criminals are issued. During his first winter working for the Ministry of Natural Resources he wore the poncho nearly every day. It was drafty, the lining itchy, and it made a person look like a road-cone with legs but despite its faults it did keep a criminal working outdoors dry and reasonably warm. When Arthur was back in Rika Chorna he rarely used it, the inconvenience of having to take it off and hang it somewhere every time he went indoors was often worse than being temporarily cold. 

Over a minute passed before the door opened and the head of Samantha's host family stepped outside. The man always insisted that Arthur acknowledge his superior status as a government bureaucrat by kneeling down to him no matter the temperature. Arthur pressed his forehead against the concrete and waited. The man stood in his warm winter clothes and let Arthur shiver at his feet for a completely unnecessary amount of time before bothering to invite him in. 

Once inside the house, Arthur and the wife exchanged greetings that neither of them meant, and then he was at last allowed to see Samantha. A room toward the back of the house contained a sort of a nursery, with a child's bed along one wall, a crib, and toys strewn about. Along the wall opposite the bed was a canvas cot. 

Arthur knocked on the door frame to announce his presence. The six-year-old girl sitting on the floor next to Samantha's cot threw her book aside and jumped up. "8!" 

In one of many spiteful moves, Samantha's hosts didn't want Arthur's given name used, in their household he was criminal # 88588. To the kids he was simply 8. Arthur noted that the three-year-old boy was nowhere to be seen; a worrying thought since he treated Arthur like a human crash test dummy. Sneaking up behind a person with weapon in hand was his usual mode of operation. 

Samantha lifted up on one elbow. "Arthur, I'm glad you're here." 

Samantha had received the usual severe beating. The crimson welts covering her bottom and the backs of her thighs contrasted starkly with her pale skin. Arthur sat down in the floor next to her cot and took her hand. 

"Ooh... your hands are like ice!" 

"Yeah, that fucking yahoo kept me waiting out on the porch forever, and of course he made me kneel down to him out in the cold." 

It was sometimes a nice advantage speaking a language that very few other people understood, so long as they spoke in a pleasant tone of voice no one had any idea what they were really saying. Sometimes Arthur and Samantha had a contest to see who could come up with the most vulgar way to describe her hosts. Samantha usually won; having to stay under the same roof with the hated couple gave her plenty of time to exercise her creative side. 

Arthur looked down at the little girl, who was staring at him with big brown eyes. He changed to the Danubian language. "It looks like you're in good hands here though. Got your own nurse to take care of you." 

"I'm a doctor 8, not a nurse!" The little girl stood with her hands on her hips, and then she spotted a bruise on Arthur's back.

"Please excuse me doctor. Uh... there's nothing wrong with me is there?"

The girl poked at his shoulder. "8, you have a bear bite. Wait here." The girl quickly returned with a first-aid kit.

"A... bear? Thought I would have noticed that. Doctor are you sure a bear bit me?"

She slapped Arthur on the back. "Uh-huh, now stay still 8."

"She never leaves my side." Samantha smiled at the girl then spoke in English, "The first time she saw me after a switching, last December, she thought I was attacked by a bear too. She's terrified of bears for some reason. 'Sanka clawed by bear' she screamed to her mother. She wanted to take me to the hospital, and couldn't understand why no one else wanted to help. She sort of understands now, her mother told her how 'naughty' I had been, how I deserve this. I think her mother's jealous because she likes me better than her. She doesn't... Watch out!"

At full speed the three-year-old boy rounded the corner with a big stick in his hand. "Die monster!" He swung and connected with the monster's head just as it was turning around.

"Got you 8, killed you monster!" The boy giggled as Arthur disarmed him.

Arthur rubbed the sore spot on his forehead. "I can't imagine why they wanted help with the kids."




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 11



The six-year old girl scolded her brother, but she seemed pleased that Arthur had another wound for her to treat. As the girl squirted some kind of cold liquid on Arthur's shoulder, the boy climbed to the top of the crib.

"Ferik, you shouldn't hit people like that. 8 is not a monster." Samantha sighed as the boy leaped onto Arthur's back, grabbing hold of the collar on his way down to the floor. The boy yanked the collar backwards and growled. Arthur struggled to pry the boy's hands loose until small sharp teeth clamped down on his finger. Victorious, the boy retrieved his stick off the floor and ran out of the room hooting like an animal.

Samantha just sighed and shook her head. "Ugh... it's like living in the monkey pit at the zoo. So... how much longer are you going to be in the city?"

Arthur examined the bite marks on his finger and then turned to make sure the boy wasn't behind him again. "I guess I lucked out, they're remodeling the MNR training center and they need somebody to do most of the manual labor cheap. There's a lot of work to do, especially around the pool where they practice water rescues. So I'll be sleeping at home for several weeks anyway."

"There!" The doctor smiled at the superior job she did bandaging the bear-inflicted wound, and then she grabbed Arthur's head in both hands to closely examine the swelling red spot on his forehead. "Hold still, I'm going to fix your head, where Ferik whacked you."

Samantha watched as the girl picked a tube of ointment from the box and then yanked a handful of hair to tilt Arthur's head back. "Maybe we can meet Laura tomorrow after she gets off work at the store."

"I can't do it tomorrow," Arthur said. "I'm working late." The girl squirted some foul smelling liquid on his forehead and rubbed it in thoroughly.

"Meet at the club then? About nine?"

"Yeah, sure." When the young doctor pulled a long Ace bandage out of the first-aid kit Arthur had to stop her. "Uh doctor... you can't wrap me up... I'm a criminal, I'll get in trouble." 

"Humph... You've been naughty too?"

"I'm afraid so doctor." Arthur winked at Samantha and changed to English. "Tomorrow night I'm planning on being extra naughty!"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Arthur, if you even think about touching my butt tomorrow I'm going to stab your eyes out!"



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 12



Chapter 12: Arthur's Good Luck

Arthur settled down on the comfortable side of a tree trunk and leaned back with notebook and pen in hand. The sun had already set but there was time to write his sister before it got completely dark.

Tee,

I've been bouncing back and forth all spring, Mr. Jakt doesn't have enough work to hire me all the time so every two or three weeks I go to work for the MNR. So I'm working up by the lake again. They apparently don't clean their stables while I'm gone. Right now I'm staying in a park building with twenty-three other residents- well, okay... they're horses.

One of the park rangers sometimes lets me go over to the main office after work and watch television. Strangely, this spring is the first time I've had a chance to watch Danubian TV, now I realize why so few homes have televisions. Who ever made these shows didn't do anything right.

I watched an episode of a cop show, with police partners on a stakeout. They spot the suspect sneaking down the street at night- only a mask and a cape would've made this guy look more suspicious. The police partners tail the man, who is always nervously glancing over his shoulder but never manages to spot the police hiding behind tree trunks, phone booths, or shrubbery.

Then they catch him red-handed in the act of committing a crime. Dramatic music starts up and the cops move in with guns-drawn and arrest the suspect for the crime of (I shit you not) vandalism. The show ends with the criminal making a tearful apology for his sinful ways, and the policeman lecturing viewers at home about how it's wrong to spray paint other people's property. As a criminal, I've never been so offended! And that was one of the better shows; it's too painful to describe what the sitcoms are like.

The newspapers aren't much better; the headlines all week were about new irrigation ditches. It had color graphics and everything. Most of the general population is wound up about the opportunities that will come from building it; of course, free people don't have to do the backbreaking work. It said in the paper that over 2800 criminals are available to work on the project.

I got my notice during lunch break. I was leaning back on a tree eating a bowl of potatoes and bread and watching a couple women exercising (naked) down by the campground. Don't you judge me! Watching girls stretch or go for a run is the only good thing about being here, but unfortunately I was rudely interrupted by the delivery of an official looking envelope.

Inside was an invitation from Public Works. I'll see Samantha when they send me back to Rika Chorna tomorrow. I don't know if she's been assigned to the project or not.

Samantha has been a little down since she found out that Laura was leaving Rika Chorna. Laura's boyfriend completed his sentence last month and he wanted her to go back to his home in Danube City with him. He promised her better living conditions and an easier life in the capital. For Samantha it was like being left alone since I'm hardly ever around. They're supposed to keep in touch but people do move on with their lives, I doubt I ever see Laura again.

I continue to attend church when I'm back in the city. The clergy treat me pretty well; one priestess in particular has made me into her special project. She's doing her best to turn me into a full-fledged member of the Danubian Church. Let me tell you, it's not easy; every time I see her she has more reading material for me to learn. Like a child on a road trip I ask: "How much longer?" She just smiles, tells me to be patient and assigns me some other task. I have a new appreciation for the efficiency of American televangelists, send money and you're in!

You're the only one from back home who writes me. In the past two years I haven't received a single letter from any of my friends. Now that I think about it, I really don't give a shit about them either. What exactly would we talk about anyway, the thickness of the calluses on my hands?

I suppose I'm just in a bad mood. I'm tired and it's time to head back to my cot before they come to check on me.

Hate you more than ever,

Arthur 

He walked back through the stables, past all the horse stalls on the right and saddles hanging on the opposite wall, to a square windowless room at the west end of the building. Arthur put the notebook beside him on the cot. He didn't want to forget it; it contained three letters that he wanted to mail when he got back to Rika Chorna. And he knew with certainty that the Ministry of Justice would be sure to have him back at Spokesman Ralkliv's office first thing in the morning.

---------

It was still dark when the newest ranger on staff, a young man fresh out of college, came to get the criminal up. He didn't know that Arthur was awake already and sitting on the edge of the horse pen. Arthur jumped down behind the ranger. "Good morning sir!"

The ranger took a sharp breath, whirled around like he was under attack, and shined a flashlight in Arthur's face. "Oh!" He exclaimed, clutching his pounding chest. "You... you trying to scare me to death? You've got to be the worst criminal I've ever worked with."

"But sir," Arthur coolly pointed out, "I'm the only criminal you've ever worked with."

"Still..." The ranger breathed heavy. "We don't have much time; we've got to go soon... I'm driving you down to Rika Chorna."

Arthur followed the ranger toward the garage. "You're driving me? You mean you got your license sir?"

"Last Friday I took the driving section and passed." The ranger proudly proclaimed: "It was only my second try."

"Impressive sir," Arthur said. "So did you drive a little car with an automatic transmission?"

The ranger opened the side door of the garage to fetch the keys, he scoffed: "That's for girls, real men drive stick!" He headed for one of the trucks and threw Arthur a towel for the seat.

The ranger climbed behind the wheel and Arthur jumped in the passenger side. Just as the key was put in the ignition the young man stopped. "Wait... oh no... my gun!"

"Your gun?" Arthur squinted at the ranger.

"For transporting criminals I have to be armed..." He threw open the door. "I forgot to check one out yesterday. I don't have time to go back now... um maybe there's something in the shop."

Arthur waited for a minute. Then the ranger jumped back in the truck and something hit Arthur's shoulder. The cab's lights illuminated enough to see a long hunting rifle resting diagonally in between them with the barrel pointed at the back glass. Arthur looked quizzically at the young ranger.

The ranger shrugged. "It's a gun, and besides, the regulations don't say anything about what sort."

"Uh... yes sir... but could you perhaps scoot it away from me some before we get to Rika Chorna?" Arthur couldn't help but laugh. "The police are a little touchy about me and guns."

"Alright... alright." Arthur ducked and the ranger rotated the rifle around to set it across his lap with the barrel pointing down.

"Oh... I can't believe this!" The ranger swore and pounded his fists on the steering wheel. "I forgot the handcuffs too! My boss... is going... to kill me, he's absolutely going to kill me!"

"You have to handcuff me, sir?"

"YES!" The distraught young ranger yelled. "He gave me clear instructions yesterday... said you were dangerous, didn't want to take any chances... said to put you in restraints."

Arthur shrugged. "I'm really more difficult than dangerous."

"I know, I know, but he gives the orders. If I go back to get handcuffs I'll be late and he will kill me; but if he finds out I transported you without restraints he's going to skin me alive!"

"Restraints... hmm." Arthur threw open the door and climbed into the bed of the truck. "Can I borrow your knife sir?"

The ranger shined his flashlight out the back glass. "I guess... what do you need..."

Arthur showed a length of rope that was tied on an eyebolt set in the bed of the truck. "You could tie me up with this..."

The ranger paused for a couple seconds. "Um... rope could be considered a restraint, I guess... alright." He handed Criminal # 88588 his pocket knife.

Criminal number 88588 put his hands out and the ranger made a clumsy attempt to tie up Arthur's wrists. "Oh, I don't know..." The ranger grumbled. "I never was any good at knots."

Arthur offered: "I could tie myself up... on the way." 

"You don't mind?" The ranger jumped back into the cab.

"No sir, glad to help. I wouldn't want you to be late." Arthur sat and started wrapping the cord around each wrist while tugging on the loose end with his teeth.

The young ranger grinned with great enthusiasm as he fired up the engine. "Now we go... hang on!" He released the clutch quickly, the engine began to stall and the ranger pushed the accelerator to the floor. Horses ran in all directions.

Twenty-seven terrifying minutes later Arthur untied his own wrists and stepped out onto the sidewalk in Rika Chorna. Next time, Arthur would consider fashioning a blindfold as well.

The ranger got out and frantically checked the pockets of his jacket and trousers. "Uh... let's see... um." The ranger cringed: "I must have... uh misplaced my notes. There's some kind of order I'm supposed to give."

Arthur scratched at the back of his head. "Uh... I think I know the basics of it." Arthur looked up as he recalled. "Sir, I think you're supposed to tell me that my custody is now officially transferred from the MNR to the Ministry of Justice, and then you need to order me to report directly to Spokesman Ralkliv's office."

"Um... yeah, that's it." With just a little help the ranger repeated the order.

Arthur waited for a few seconds but the young ranger didn't do anything. "Sir... I'm going to need the paperwork to give to my spokesman."

The ranger breathed a sigh of relief when he found a folded-up paper in his shirt pocket. "Here, here you go..." He climbed back in the cab of the pickup. "Um... have a good day Criminal #88588."

'Have a good day' was a very peculiar thing to say to someone who was about to report to the police headquarters for judicial punishment. Arthur waved: "You too, sir."

Arthur watched as the young ranger backed his front wheels off the curb and then, reluctantly, Arthur turned toward the Police Headquarters, all the while wondering what it takes to fail a Danubian driver's test.

---------

Ralkliv stood in the outer office drinking coffee and talking to a receptionist. Arthur got down on the floor and did the standard criminal to spokesman greeting.

"Please stand." Ralkliv said. "I am pleased you came in early Criminal number 88588; there is someone here to see you. The man seated in my office; do you recognize this man?"

There was a glass panel in the middle of the office door. Arthur took a long look at the man. Probably mid-thirties, his hair was clipped very short, blue dress shirt, a walking cane was across his knees. "No sir, I don't."

"Arthur that is Officer Detynik Andreis. He came to me yesterday and said he wanted to meet with you; as a victim of crime it is his right."

Arthur felt a panic. "But... what does he want? I mean... I don't understand sir. He came to witness the punishment?"

"No," Ralkliv said. "He wanted to speak with you in private, beyond that I cannot say. Arthur you must not keep him waiting."

Arthur took a deep breath, opened the door, and nervously stepped into the office. He started to kneel.

"There is no need." Andreis spoke softly and slurred his words slightly. "I am no longer on the force. Please have a seat Criminal # 88588."

"Yes sir." Arthur sat. He noticed the long curved scar above Andreis's right ear, from surgery, perhaps.

Andreis twisted the cane in his lap. He sat, looking at the floor, gathering his thoughts. "I... did not tell my wife I was planning to meet you today; she would not understand." Andreis looked hard at Arthur, started to say something, paused and then sighed. "Now that I am here, I do not know, maybe she is right... she's always saying how I see things how I want to see them, not the way they are."

Arthur sat uncomfortably, waiting, unsure of what the man was getting at.

Andreis's gray eyes focused on Arthur. "The fact is that I hated you for a very long time."

Arthur nodded slightly. "That is... understandable sir."

"It was two years ago yesterday, that shooting." Andreis continued. "It seems like a much longer time."

"It does." Arthur said quietly.

Andreis looked more comfortable now. "In the last year I have spent much time visiting my priest; I understand that you also are under the guidance of the Church."

"Yes sir," Arthur said. "A priestess has been teaching me about the Faith; besides counseling she's helped me learn the language better, reading and writing mostly. She's been very patient."

Andreis almost laughed. "Clergy have to be, especially when dealing with... hmm... difficult persons, don't you think?"

"Yes sir."

Andreis sat still for a moment, thinking. "My oldest boy is seven. He plays soccer on one of the school's youth leagues. He's very fast, one of the top players; plays so hard, he's a fighter!" Andreis paused to chuckle and shake his head. "But... he's not the least bit gracious in defeat, if he loses you best get out of the way... he's the worst loser you've ever seen. Calling the other team names, crying and punching and kicking, oh... one of the parents brought the team some cakes to last week's game, when my boy found out they were going to share with the winning team he dumped the pan on the ground. I was so embarrassed, it was a mess!

I have spent so much time apologizing for his outbursts that his coach finishes my sentences for me. I've got to be patient with the boy though. He just wants to win so bad, it is understandable that it would upset him when a victory is taken from him.

So I talk to him... after he has calmed down. I tell him that it's natural to feel upset, but all the fighting and screaming does no good, the game is over already.

Of course, an impulsive little boy doesn't see it that way; it is always somebody else's fault you know." Andreis shrugged. "I just have to trust that as he gets older he learns to accept the bad with the good, and deal with his anger in a more constructive way."

Andreis looked Criminal # 88588 in the eyes. "It is not good to be filled with hate. Perhaps I need to be a better example to my kids," Andreis laughed. "Or I could just blame his bad behavior on my wife; she was always the hot tempered one!"

Arthur interjected: "Sometimes anger is justified though."

"Surely, but to achieve a purpose, once the situation is rectified it is time to move on... at least that is the way I see it." Andreis smiled crookedly. "But, as my wife often points out, I'm not always a practical or realistic man." Andreis leaned on his cane and stood. He put out his right hand.

Arthur stood as well and grasped Andreis's hand. "It was good to meet you sir... and good luck with your boy."

Andreis smiled in a good-natured way. "Be well, Criminal number 88588."

Arthur watched him go. He felt relieved, the meeting went better that he could have hoped. Andreis was a good man and it's hard to be a good man, to do things right, to forgive people who hurt you. Arthur knew he had never been the forgiving type, but things can change. Proud, greedy, cruel, and selfish: that was the old Arthur Liggett.

He looked at the clock, it was 7:35. Officer Stashak and her partner wouldn't be by to pick him up for another 25 minutes at least. He sat down again in Ralkliv's office; there was time to think. What would the new Arthur Liggett do?

He thought about Samantha. She loved him. Why on Earth she did was a mystery, but she did. She was his best friend. He didn't want to be away from her. Was it time? Feeling extra sappy, the new and improved Arthur Liggett made his decision... it wasn't hard at all, in fact, he felt exuberant.

Spokesman Ralkliv casually chatted with his secretary, he took a sip of coffee, and then he noticed his American client standing in his office, cheerfully singing some fast paced American rap song. Criminal # 88588 came out the door laughing, happy as a lark. Arthur casually picked up the comics section of the newspaper.

Ralkliv sighed. Soon his client would be taken into one of the punishment rooms and beaten. Most of his clients were scared before a switching, they stayed nervously silent or prayed beforehand; some of the older ones were more somber, stoic, or contemplative. But Criminal number 88588 was just plain weird!

---------

Arthur raised up on his elbows enough to read through a letter sent by his sister Tee. She had taken a break from college and was living in Maryland with some guy that worked for the State Department. Arthur imagined his sister attending a formal dinner in flip-flops and cheap oversized jewelry.

He didn't notice Samantha enter. "You look like shit Arthur."

Arthur flinched in surprise and groaned from the pain that the sudden movement caused. He turned to see Samantha standing in the doorway with one hand on her hip.

"Uh... I suppose I could comb my hair a bit."

Samantha looked down at his swollen welt-covered skin and cringed. "It's the guy that gave you that haircut that should've been beaten."

"It was cheap at least." Arthur shrugged. "I didn't hear you come in. Where's Mr. Jakt? I usually hear you two flirting."

Samantha laughed. "He's out front working on that pile of junk he calls a pickup truck... naked. I just opened the gate and there he was... underneath the hood, on his hands and knees right up on top of the engine not wearing a stitch of clothes and covered in black grease."

Arthur nodded. "Ah... The timeless art of seduction. But to tell you the truth, I'm getting tired of all this sexual tension when you come over here. Why don't you two just make sweet love and get it over with already? I mean, Mr. Jakt's old; how much longer are you going to play hard to get?"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Anyway, Mr. Jakt notices me closing the gate and he turns around, the front of the truck's facing the gate by the way... and he just turns around and starts talking to me like nothing out of the ordinary is happening."

"This is the most erotic story I've ever heard. Slow down. Give me the details. What happened next? Did he drop a wrench on the ground and ask you to pick it up for him? Was there any suggestive dialog? Did he ask you to touch his ball joints or look at his crank shaft?"

"Uh... no, but I don't think I'll ever get that image out of my head. There should be an age limit for running around naked outside."

"Now you're making me jealous." Arthur said. "I mean, how would you feel if I seduced your host? I can do it too, if I can just get the husband out of the house. You know all that kneeling's just a pretense to get a better look at my butt; she definitely wants some spy action- I bet the old man's just not doing it for her anymore."

"Don't you have enough women beating you already?"

"Now you sound jealous." Arthur decided to get up. He did his best to act like the burning throbbing pain on his buttocks, thighs, and shoulders didn't bother him. "I do seem to attract the wrong sort of attention; are you just off for lunch?"

"Yeah, I've got to go in ten minutes. Just wanted to come by and see if you were still in one piece." Samantha moved close for a kiss.

He pulled back, causing Samantha a temporary hurt look; then he jumped right in.

"Will you marry me?" Arthur would rather have had a more dignified way to bring up the subject than stinking of dried sweat and covered in welts, but time was not on his side, he would have to leave Rika Chorna in the morning and be gone for months at a time.

Samantha took in a sharp breath. "What?"




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 12



"I think we should get married... I mean, I'm not sure if we can, given our unusual situation but what do you say? Want to be Mrs. Criminal number 88588?"

"Wow... I... Hmm... After stammering about for a few seconds Samantha flashed a wicked smile. "Let's do it, let's get married!" With a girlish scream Samantha jumped enthusiastically throwing her arms around Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur's eyes went wide in pain. "Shit, that hurts!"

Samantha giggled but let go. "Oh, sorry."

Arthur groaned and looked up at the ceiling. "What am I getting myself into?"

---------

A hundred criminals lined up in orderly ranks, standing at attention inside the old train station. The guards had their switches and batons out, making a big show of the inspection in front of a crowd of travelers. The train was on time; in Danubia the train is always on time. Free people took their seats and then the criminals were allowed to board, though the criminals weren't permitted the luxury of a seat or travel in a passenger car.

Arthur gripped a wall panel with his left hand. The train car swayed and bumped so much that it was hard to stand otherwise and Arthur did want to stand; the last occupants were either sheep or goats. It was the tenth of May and the warm air whipping all around the open topped livestock car smelled of spring... and goats.

Though it was not easy to judge time Arthur thought they traveled almost two hours eastward from Rika Chorna before the train came to a stop near an intersection. Two Public Works buses took the criminals southward for another hour until the road became too muddy for the bus to travel. The guards had the criminals unload and kneel in groups of ten so that their collars could be fastened together on chains. The final ten km would be traveled on foot.

Arthur and the others marched down the farm road. They were in the sparsely populated plains near the border of Danubia's two eastern-most provinces; cultivated fields of wheat, oats, and barley went on for kilometers to either side.

An hour later the road crested a small hill and Arthur got his first look at the Ministry of Public Works' camp. A cramped but orderly grid of canvass tents and trailers covered what had once been a pasture; a kilometer across. A thirty-meter antenna tower set in the middle; on the northern border lines of criminals unloaded several flatbed trucks. Bulldozers, excavators and other heavy equipment set in a clearing on the camp's east side. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people moved about.

A guard, weary and irritable, stepped out of the first tent beside the road. He sighed loud enough for everyone to hear it and then raised a hand to stop the work crew. Arthur thought that he might unlock the chain, but the guard was only interested in getting them classified and assigned before the next group arrived. Without saying a thing, he walked by copying numbers onto his clipboard. When all ten names were recorded, he turned to rummage through a box of supplies.

The guard peeled off a round green sticker with a white #22 on it and stuck it right on the chest of the young man who was first in line. With the criminal work crew cataloged and labeled his job was done; he pointed down a well-trampled road through the center of camp, said: "camp green," and then made a gesture as if shooing off flies.

There were five camps spread out along the work site, each held hundreds of male criminals, a separate smaller camp held the women. Arthur and the other nine were herded toward an encampment of about fifty army tents each with a green sign and number on it.

A female guard stopped them at the camp entrance. "Down on your knees."

Arthur and the others got down on trampled grass.

"I expect to you dishonored animals to answer 'Yes Officer' when you are given an order. Is that clear?"

"Yes Officer." The group repeated with not much enthusiasm.

Satisfied with her dominance over the lowly criminals, the woman set her shotgun on a bench and began unlocking the chain from the collars. Next there was the assignment of living quarters. Arthur had a canvas cot inside a military style canvas tent with nine other criminals; on top of his cot was a box containing a toothbrush, soap, and a few other items as well as a list of rules and regulations. This was home for some undetermined amount of time.

---------

Work began the next morning. Strangely enough, in this project that was marketed as a way to bring the Eastern Valley into the twenty-first century, most of the labor seemed more first century. Canals were roughed out with an old excavator that smoked and groaned with every scoop, then after the machine moved on criminal labor crews gave the canal its final slope. Piles of soil and rock were moved by hand drawn sledges, wheel barrels, and shovels; then compacted using hand drawn rollers. Private contractors installed metal irrigation gates at the ends of each segment.

This was hard labor; long exhausting days, in the glare of the late spring sun, under the watch of guards who had no sympathy for the 'animals' they supervised. Arthur and the others got used to it though, and tried to make their time off after work as pleasant as possible. There were games played and sports for those who had the energy. A few enterprising Danubians even made rudimentary musical instruments; by the second week there were a few peculiar bands performing after supper.

Arthur socialized some, but he wasn't exactly friends with any of the other criminals. He knew how serious and easily offended Danubians tended to be; so he was cautious, just not cautious enough.

One afternoon during his second week Arthur and a particularly large Danubian criminal were ordered to assist the contractors with the placement of a section of gate. During a lengthy delay while concrete was poured, Arthur thought he would try to make the Danubian criminal laugh.

Arthur told a joke he had translated from English and got no response. Since the joke had to do with an American Major League Baseball team, a sport that Danubians didn't even play, Arthur tried to explain in terms he might understand: "Alright... it's like if your mother walked in on your sister with... the... Rika Chorna men's soccer team... and there's a jar of money in the floor and..."

The Danubian found this explanation even less satisfying. He grabbed Arthur's right arm in one hand and drew back the other for a punch. Arthur owed the slimy red clay for the miss. Arthur jerked away from the Danubian's grip and his feet went out from under him.

The big man didn't let go. Tumbling backwards and upside-down on the slope, by chance Arthur's feet got underneath the Danubian's mid-section. Arthur kicked, sending him flipping end-over-end and landing in knee-deep muddy water.

Arthur slid to a stop just short of the waterline and then scrambled back up the incline before his big angry friend extracted himself from the mud. A guard had noticed the disturbance.

---------

Back at the camp Arthur and his large friend were placed into a chain link enclosure just outside the guard's quarters. It was simply a six-meter square pen set on dying trampled grass with a gate on the north end. Arthur hoped the Danubian was no longer in the mood to fight- big and tall beats average and well... average any day. He knew he just got lucky the first time, now that he was locked in a cage with his adversary it was time to use diplomacy.

"You see," Arthur explained. "This is all a misunderstanding." The large man's fists were clenched, not a good sign.

"I don't want you to take what I said the wrong way." No response.

"I'm sure that you actually come from a very respectable family... and I didn't mean to imply otherwise." The big man looked even angrier, and took a step forward.

"And I'm certain that your mother is a saint... or uh... whatever..." Arthur dashed to the side avoiding the big man's grip.

"Fight me like a man!" The Danubian growled."

"Uh... I'd rather not." Arthur stepped to the side avoiding him again.

"Really if you think about it... er... you and me..." Arthur faked going left and scrambled right. "We aren't all that different."

"Uh... us criminals got to stick together right?" Arthur's next footstep skidded on wet grass and the Danubian landed a hard punch to his ribs. Arthur tumbled off balance from the blow, kicking as the big man lurched over him throwing more punches.

A shotgun blast at close range got both their attentions. The criminal who was about to knock Arthur's head off swore under his breath and backed away. The sounds of multiple pump-action shotguns loading accompanied the shouts of approaching guards.

The first guard through the gate kicked Arthur to the ground and twisted his arms back to apply handcuffs (for the protection of the five guards and the other criminal). When both criminals were subdued a female officer stepped into the cage. She was about thirty, a little shorter than Arthur, and judging from her immaculately pressed gray uniform, unaccustomed to camp life.

"You." She looked disgusted at Arthur, on his knees in front of her, covered in red clay and clumps of grass. "What is your name?"

"Officer, my name is Criminal # 88588."

"That accent... Where are you from Criminal # 88588?"

"The United States."

"Amerikanitsk... Amerikanitsk?" She curiously repeated the term for a male American. "You're the spy, aren't you?"

Fame was clearly over-rated. "Yes officer, I was convicted of espionage two years ago."

"And you are still causing trouble, are you not?"

Arthur borrowed a phrase that American politicians use when they get in trouble, to sound apologetic without admitting anything. "I regret that mistakes were made officer."

"I can tell you that you will definitely regret causing a disturbance at this camp. You have not only violated the regulations of the Ministry of Public Works but also the terms of..." 

The listing of rules that they had broken went on and on. Arthur considered his options while the officer veered off into lecture mode, using phrases that must have been pulled directly out of some police manual. By the time the series of warnings, quoted regulations, and platitudes was complete Arthur had decided how to respond. The guards were intimidating but the look that the 250lb gorilla was giving him seemed worse.

"Officer, the disturbance was entirely my fault; my careless words provoked this man into fighting me." Arthur glanced over at his big angry friend, hoping that did the trick.

"Who is at fault is not for a dishonored criminal to decide. You're aware of the camp rules are you not?"

"Yes officer."

"And you." She spoke to the big criminal to Arthur's right.

"Yes officer." He rumbled.

"Good, then you have no excuses." She gave an order to a subordinate in her most authoritative voice and then turned to leave looking very pleased with herself.

---------

The wild boar was hit- it bucked straight up in the air and made a horrible squeal. Its last few strides took it into the swampy border of a thick hedge. The boar ceased moving after a minute. Two guards congratulated the shooter and commented on the fine meal it would make.

The shooter was eager to see his prize up close. "You two dishonored criminals; go get that pig."

Arthur started to give a reasonable explanation of why that would not be such a good idea but he could see that the guard was completely unsympathetic. His big friend was already wading toward the boar's body; its hindquarters and one foot poked out of the tangle of grass and brambles. It looked bigger up close. Arthur looked to his partner, wondering if he had done this before. 

Arthur grabbed hold of the boar's left hind foot with both hands. It was covered in black bristles, callused and hard, big around as a softball, and twitching. The plan was that they would grab the boar by the hind legs and drag it on its back toward the bank.

Such a plan required that the boar be dead though. The animal shook free of his grip as though he was nothing at all and spun around in a fury of splashing water. Like his partner, Arthur thought it was time to retreat. Twenty meters ahead two guards brought shotguns to their shoulders. Arthur scrambled as fast as four limbs could take him through water, mud, and grass.

Something hit Arthur's left leg hard below the knee; there were gunshots- he stumbled forward and splashed into a hole of knee-deep water. Gripping handfuls of grassroots with both hands he yanked himself back to his feet. Arthur's left leg buckled under his weight. This time he couldn't gather the strength to pull himself out of the mud- or hold himself up. His weakening arms gave out and Arthur sank gently into the water, muddy brown water that strangely had a significant amount of red mixing in. Someone close by shouted and gripped his right arm.  He was being pulled up. Arthur felt like sleeping.

---------

The smell of rubbing alcohol and the click of footsteps on a hard surface... Arthur opened his eyes, and blinked at bright fluorescent lighting overhead. Slowly he focused; he was in a small bed with a sheet and a white blanket over him- a strange feeling. He raised his sore head to look around the long narrow room, there were several more beds, some like his own had IV bags hanging beside them... a hospital ward, he realized. Five other patients lie on their beds, or sat up chatting with visitors.

His mouth and throat were completely dry. There was a pitcher of water and an empty glass on a small table nearby, Arthur scooted over to the edge of the bed and reached for the pitcher.

"Oh, come on!" He said, barely making a noise. His left wrist was handcuffed to the bed's railing. As he sat up he felt a throbbing pain in his left leg. Arthur threw back the covers to see the leg elevated on a pillow and bandaged from the knee down to his ankle. He wiggled his bruised toes just to make sure they still moved. "That boar..." Arthur remembered. "I got attacked by a fucking boar!"

A nurse walked into the far side of the room with an arm full of towels. Arthur couldn't say anything intelligible so he clapped his hands as loud as the handcuffs on his left wrist and the IV in his right arm would allow.

"Oh, I see you're awake," the nurse made a disapproving noise. "You need to stay in bed for a while and keep that leg elevated."

How exactly a person could leave the bed while handcuffed to it Arthur didn't know but he was more concerned with thirst. Arthur made a gesture as if drinking. The nurse poured a glass of the best water Arthur had ever tasted; he drank it down greedily and then had some more.

"Am I in Rika Chorna?" His voice came out raspy and slurred; his usually nimble tongue uncooperative.

"No, you're in the Provincial Capital of Novo Sokut Tok; Rika Chorna's over a hundred and fifty kilometers away from here by road. The medics brought you in yesterday; this was the closest hospital, I'm not sure you would have made it all the way to Rika Chorna with all the blood you lost."

"Nearly killed by a wild boar? I felt it slash at my leg, never would have seen that coming."

"Wild boar? Young man it was the gunshot wound that nearly killed you, the doctor removed five pellets of shot from your leg last night. One of them hit a major artery, that's why you nearly bled to death."

" Uh... the guards shot me?"

She shrugged. "Well, you shouldn't have messed around with a wounded animal. They said they had no choice but to fire at the beast before it killed you, you're lucky to be alive."

Arthur looked down at the handcuffs and his bandaged leg not feeling very lucky right then. "Nurse... can you unlock these?"

"You're a criminal and you remain in custody, you can't just move around unsupervised. If you need to go to the restroom one of the staff will escort you there and back." She gave Arthur a stern look. "The guards warned us about you; just because you're a patient don't think that you can do what you want. When a doctor or nurse gives you an order, we expect it to be followed, is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am. I'm not going to cause you any trouble." Arthur said. "But could I have paper and pen to write a letter?" She looked suspiciously at him before removing a notepad and pen from the table. Arthur placed the notepad on top of the railing and rolled to the side enough to write with his free hand.

Samantha,

I hope you received my last letter; I haven't had the opportunity to write in a couple weeks for reasons explained below. I got your letter Wednesday, it sounded like you had a pretty good time at the club, and I always thought you had a good singing voice. You asked how I'm doing so I'll catch you up on what's going on with me.

Besides getting in a fight, being attacked by a wild boar, and shot in the leg by a guard everything is going pretty well here. I'm now lying in a hospital bed in a city called Novo Sokut Tok, though I haven't been able to see much of it, I hear it's nice. The nurse said I was very lucky to have survived- I don't know if she meant the boar or the guards. I hope I don't get 'lucky' like this again.

I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll start with the fight. It all began with a joke, the one about the mother who catches her daughter with the baseball team- well, the Danubian I was telling the joke to thought I was talking specifically about his family. Long story short: the guy tried to knock my head off; besides some bruises he didn't do much damage. I was eventually able to explain that I didn't mean to insult him, and he got over it.

The guards were not so forgiving. For the past two weeks both of us were forced to work four extra hours per day as partners, doing all sorts of unpleasant tasks. And that gets me to the part about the boar.

I don't know if they're native or not but there are large numbers of wild pigs here, they seem to enjoy the irrigation canals that we're digging. The guards sometimes hunt them and have pig roasts over at their quarters.

Yesterday three of the guards took us on a pig hunt. They had a blind set up already by a section of canal where they left out food. A guard with a rifle shot an especially big boar, and my partner and I were sent out to into the swamp to retrieve it. The boar wasn't dead, just temporarily stunned and real angry.

I'm not sure what happened next, but the nurse said the surgeon removed five pieces of shot from my leg yesterday. Also I have a couple toenails missing, and the lower part of my foot's black and blue, perhaps the thing bit me.

I haven't talked to the doctor yet so I'm not sure how long I have to stay here, but I suppose I'm going to be on crutches for a while. I'm not...


Arthur put down the notepad as a female doctor walked into the room. She spent a few seconds reading his chart. "Criminal # 88588, did the nurse explain what happened to you?"

"Yes ma'am."

The doctor spoke while writing instructions on his chart. "There was significant muscle damage but that should heal, my main concern is that the wounds don't start bleeding again or get infected. You need to keep it elevated for a couple days to reduce swelling, and stay off of it for two weeks but I expect you will make a full recovery. If all goes well we will release you in a couple days- I suspect you'll be sent back to Rika Chorna."

Arthur thought he should try again. "That's good to hear doctor, but do you think these," Arthur raised his left wrist, "could be taken off."

"You want to be treated like a normal patient?" The doctor smiled pleasantly as she finished writing something on his chart.

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

Her voice went cold. "Then you shouldn't have come into our country to steal from us, should you?"

The doctor was still looking at him. "No ma'am." Arthur leaned back while the doctor examined his leg.




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 12



After she left Arthur looked around, feeling less groggy and more bored, there were ten hospital beds in the long narrow room, five of them occupied, Arthur was in the last bed against the outside wall, and the nearest patient was four empty beds away. Arthur mused how fearful they were of his influence; warning the staff, chaining him to the bed, treating him like some spy-mastermind.

Bored, with no entertainment at all, not even a TV in the room, Arthur looked at the handcuffs. There was no way to get them loose without disassembling the railing, and someone would probably notice that. He did see a small finish nail holding up a calendar above his head.

"Pick the lock maybe," Arthur spoke English in a raspy whisper. "If I could reach it," Arthur glanced at the other patients, "But I'll have to kill some witnesses." Arthur stared absently out the window and formulated an elaborate escape plan with no fewer than three stolen vehicles, multiple ridiculous disguises, and several unnecessary explosions. That done, he checked the clock. Only half an hour had passed but it was at least lunchtime.

Arthur sat up in bed as an elderly woman came to deliver his tray; she hesitated when she saw that the criminal patient was handcuffed.

"Don't worry, I won't bite."

The old woman looked horrified. Arthur realized that he should stop trying to translate American phrases into Danubian. It came out more like: "Don't think I won't bite you!" She put the tray and drink down on the side table and hurried off.

Arthur stretched as far as the handcuffs would allow and barely grasped the table leg with his fingertips. It made a terrible screech as he dragged it across the tile floor, all the other patients were staring, obviously annoyed. Arthur smiled and waved apologetically while saying vulgar things to them in English.

He set the tray in his lap and removed the cover with his free right hand. "Ugh... What is this? Pea soup and plain toast. Come on!"



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 13



Chapter 13: Two Futures

It was only a two-hour drive from the work camp to Rika Chorna but the trip seemed longer because of the company. Arthur's two days in the hospital had been followed by three days in the camp's infirmary. When the medics decided the swelling in his leg had gone down enough they sent him back to the city.

Arthur sensed that the two guards didn't like him much. Perhaps, it was their terse manners or the way they handcuffed him and threw him in the back of the van. He didn't have to speculate for long; as soon as the doors shut the driver and his partner laid out their particular grievances against him.

Item 1: It was obviously his fault that a trio of their guard friends had to work night shifts because-

Item 2: Criminal # 88588 had the nerve to go and get attacked by the wild boar, which forced the-

Item 3: Heroic, good-natured, hard-working guards to risk their own lives in an effort to save a dishonored criminal. Which lead to-

Item 4: The wasting of perfectly good ammunition.

Their logic was impeccable but their courtesy could've used some work. After much name calling, and lecturing they arrived at the Public Works headquarters in Rika Chorna. Arthur picked up his paperwork and went directly across the street to check in with his spokesman.

Arthur scuttled along on old wooden crutches trying to grip the slick handles while keeping his paperwork in good condition. It was one of the harsh realities that every Danubian criminal struggles with: The enigma of not having pockets, what to do with your stuff?

Ralkliv's secretary made Arthur wait just a minute before sending him back. He hobbled down the hallway, slipping some, as the crutches' worn down rubber pads didn't grip the floor so well. In Ralkliv's doorway, his left crutch slid out a bit too much.

Instead of allowing his sore left leg to contact the floor he let go of the crutches, and caught himself with both arms. Since he was down there already he figured he would transition into an awkward kneeling position and greet his spokesman in the formal manner. Ralkliv sighed and said his line, though not with a very welcoming tone.

Ralkliv, in fact looked upset. "Criminal # 88588 have a seat."

Arthur gathered the paperwork off the floor and handed it to his spokesman; he sat as Ralkliv spent a silent minute reading.

"Arthur, I see you have been in trouble again." Ralkliv emphasized 'again'. You were in two fist-fights during your second week in camp?" Ralkliv emphasized 'two'.

"Well sir, the second fight closely followed the first so it was more like one fight with a... brief intermission."

Ralkliv made a falling whistle noise; a sound that Danubians made to show disapproval. "You think that sounds better, I do not. This report also states that you admitted to instigating the fights."

"Uh... Yes sir, but it was more of a misunderstanding really. One of the criminals on my work crew took something I said the wrong way, but I do regret that mistakes were made."

"I never get a simple answer out of you, do I?" Ralkliv inclined his head to the side and rubbed his temple with the fingertips of his left hand. "What exactly did you say?"

"It was a joke, actually. An American joke I had translated into Danubian... and uh..." Arthur paused to swallow. "Perhaps I translated badly and he thought I was talking specifically about his mother and sister; I always have trouble with pronouns and..."

A completely humorless Ralkliv interrupted. "Tell me this joke."

Arthur told the joke.

"Prostitution, exploitation, sodomy, incest..." Ralkliv closed his eyes and shook his head. "This is what you find amusing?"

"Well," Arthur shifted in his seat. "Not when you put it like that."

"With this sort of filth in your mind it is no surprise you get in so much trouble. No other client of mine causes me half as much trouble. Do you know that I have superiors that I have to explain your behavior to?"

"One month after your trial you violate the terms of your sentence." Ralkliv started counting on his fingers for emphasis. "A week after you got back to the city you caused a disturbance in the middle of the night. Then there was that shameful disruption during the Day of the Dead. And last year there was the incident with the horse and the tourists. Now you get into not one but two fistfights and then you almost get yourself killed."

Spokesman Ralkliv had run out of fingers on his right hand. He made yet another sound of disapproval before swiveling to retrieve a folder from his shelf. Ralkliv opened it to place the paperwork inside. "Arthur, this is your file. Do you notice how thick it is? I have a client serving his eighteenth year and his file is thinner than this!"

"Sir, I regret that mistakes were..."

"Stop saying that!" Ralkliv closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Criminal # 88588 you will meet me here first thing in the morning. You are dismissed!"

"Yes sir." As Ralkliv searched for his aspirin bottle Arthur hopped on one foot, picked his crutches up off the floor, and made his way out hoping his spokesman would be in a better mood in the morning.

---------

"Mr. Jakt," Arthur handed a cardboard box to the old man. "I got you something for your birthday. I know you didn't have to take me into your household, and you certainly didn't have to treat me so well. I suppose I just wanted to thank you for that."

"Bah... I wanted somebody to mow my lawn and patch the roof and you were some good cheap labor for the business." Jakt shook the box.

"So you invited an enemy of the state into your household for maintenance? You took a big risk; I mean a spy like me could have made off with your entire fishing lure collection while you slept."

Jakt ripped open the end of the box. A bait cast reel and graphite rod was inside.

"I had my sister send it over... never been used. A friend of mine gave it to me and I never got a chance to use it." Arthur didn't mention that he had won it gambling on baseball.

"Looks expensive."

Arthur pointed out: "It's got titanium doodads and everything. My friend only bought the best when it came to fishing; lived in a shack though."

While Jakt examined his new reel and rod, Samantha arrived with the cake. A cake she had baked herself. "So how did it go today?"

Arthur stood on his right leg and grabbed some plates from Jakt's cabinets. "Spokesman Ralkliv still wasn't in a very good mood this morning so I didn't bring up the subject."

Samantha finished setting up the table, and stuffed a napkin under one side of the platter so the cake didn't look so lop-sided. "Where's he got you working now?"

Arthur wondered if the cake had been dropped on the floor and stuck back together. "Uh... he had me assisting one of his clerks with paperwork, but I'm not really very good at it so I keep getting loaned out."

"Are you going to ask him tomorrow?"

"Definitely... I would have brought up the subject today but he kept going on and on about how my behavior was causing him all kinds of problems and warning me that if I kept getting in trouble, he would be forced to take action."

Samantha looked up apprehensively. "What does 'take action' mean?"

Arthur looked away and took an uneasy breath. "Well... he's going to roll up a newspaper and whack me on the nose." Arthur motioned sharply with one hand. "Bad Criminal! Bad Criminal!" 

Samantha gave Arthur a sour look and placed a hand on her hip; she was sometimes a pretty tough audience.

Samantha stepped into the living room. "Mr. Jakt, your cake's ready."

Arthur thought it was an unusual cake: both chewy and gritty; bitter and sour. How Samantha could forget to put sugar in a cake was baffling. Jakt had the stomach of a goat and ate his slice quickly. Arthur forced himself to swallow the first mouthful. Samantha watched Arthur for his reaction.

"Mmm... So, what type of cake is this?"

"Um... it's a coffee cake; do you like it?"

Coffee grounds, that accounts for the grit. Arthur tried to wash it off his tongue with a big swallow of milk. "It's really good!" Samantha smiled proudly. How Danubians got through the day without lying was something Arthur would never understand.

---------

The next morning Arthur acted as apologetic as possible as he got up off Ralkliv's floor. "Sir, there is something I need to discuss with you."

Ralkliv looked like he was afraid to find out. "Yes Criminal # 88588 what is it?"

"Spokesman, Samantha and I have been seeing one another for almost two years. We talked it over and we want to get married. We were hoping to have a wedding sometime next year after she completes her sentence."

Ralkliv had a relieved expression; he leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together in one of his 'deep in thought' gestures.

"Arthur, I have no objection to a marriage but you must realize an engagement between a foreign criminal serving a long sentence and a soon to be released foreign criminal raises unique challenges. Samantha has about eleven months left of her sentence and you have almost twenty-eight years. This situation is difficult... Is it true that Samantha is willing to stay here throughout the entire term of your sentence?"

"Yes sir."

Ralkliv twisted his fancy ink pen in the fingers of his right hand and thought a bit. "After Samantha is released in June she will have the legal status of any other traveler. However, the Danubian people have great respect for the institution of marriage and there are laws that might apply in your case. I believe that I can get permission for Samantha to remain in Danubia... perhaps at some point Samantha might even be eligible for citizenship."

"That's good to hear sir but is there anything I can do?" Arthur decided to head off Ralkliv's response. "I mean besides staying out of trouble?"

Ralkliv gave Arthur one of his dramatic looks, placing a forefinger on his desk for emphasis. "You just concentrate on that, I will handle everything else."

---------

Arthur said goodbye to Jakt and Samantha and then boarded the Public Works bus feeling only a little pain in his left calf as he climbed the steps. It was noon on August 2nd; a hot, dry and windy day.

Arthur picked a window seat in the back. Samantha was still standing outside in the courtyard. He forced himself to smile and wave back. Arthur never told Samantha how apprehensive he was about returning to the camp. He wondered if the guards had something planned for him.

The bus went east on a two lane paved highway and then pulled off on a rough gravel road. The road quickly deteriorated from gravel to parallel muddy grooves with a ridge in the middle. The bus stopped at an intersection with another farm road, a place wide enough to turn around. A gray Public Works truck was parked beside the road.

The criminals unloaded and faced the two guards; both were aggravated to be kept waiting so long. Arthur recognized the man from the hard-labor camp at Novo Sumi Ris.

"Form three lines of ten." He kept his shotgun raised and ready as his partner retrieved chains from the truck bed.

Arthur heard the rattle of chains and memories of that camp flashed sharp in his mind. Those three months were unforgettable. The judge would've been pleased; she taught him a harsh lesson.

Arthur revisited that horrible place often at night, his nightmares came in fragmented scenes: chained and abandoned, left crying in despair shivering wretched in the cold rain, or cowering alone in terror in the shadows of merciless guards, their switches and batons raised and ready to strike, or screaming but unable to make a sound while under the control of the Major and her brutal methods... and there was always the sound of chains.

The panic told him to run- anywhere so they wouldn't lock that chain onto his collar. Arthur took deep breaths to slow his racing heartbeat and tried to focus on some movement over a farmer's wheat field: a bird of prey flew low and fast heading southward. Arthur lined up a couple seconds slower than everyone else. The guard noticed.

"Are you trying to disrespect me criminal?" Arthur was sure he was recognized.

"No officer." Arthur just finished in time for a slap across the face.

He drew his forearm back again and Arthur flinched. His female partner thought it was pretty funny. She stepped up close to Arthur's face.

"You better learn place, Criminal #88588. Get on your knees so we can get you dogs chained up."

The curl of a thin smile formed as she locked his collar's loop onto the end of the ten-meter chain. She gripped it in both hands and pulled the chain, dragging the criminal forward by the neck like an animal; she mocked his panicked expression, laughing with her partner, obviously enjoying her work.

The crew marched for about two hours on the narrow uneven farm road and arrived at the work camp in the late afternoon. Arthur noted that the camp was bigger than before with tents spread out into an adjacent field. Arthur's old work crew was surprised to have the gunshot American back so soon; he joined in immediately, working in the late August heat.

---------

In their typical love for efficiency, Public Works concentrated all the judicial punishments down to just four days per month. With the huge size of the camp that still amounted to around a hundred criminals at a time; inconvenience to court officials, guards, and work foremen was kept to a minimum though.

While taking that uncomfortable walk to the guard's camp, Arthur complained bitterly to whatever gods were listening. "This is so unfair! I get attacked by a boar, shot in the fucking leg and then I have just enough time to make a full fucking recovery before the next switching. Damn it, why didn't those bastards shoot me in July?"

Two clusters of criminals stood in the courtyard already; arms folded in the predawn chill. The men all looked the same. Earlier that week the guards decided to head off an infestation of lice in the simplest way. Forty or so naked hairless men stood in formation with their metal collars reflecting morning sunlight, looking like aliens waiting to board the mother ship. Dozens more apprehensive criminals came streaming in from all over the camp. Arthur joined the rest of the men waiting in silence.

The guards' tents were arranged into a hollow square fifty meters across, with a courtyard in the middle. There were a few trucks parked inside, and two chain-link detention cages to the right of the entrance, but the criminals' dread focused the long row of platforms down the middle.

Sunlight lit up the hedgerow east of camp and a group of guards came out to start their morning shift. One of the officers, an administrative type who always seemed to have a clipboard in his hand took charge; as he called out each number, a fearful man or woman stepped forward. He read forty-eight names off his list and directed the first group to the line of platforms; the second group was cataloged and told to wait nearby. The judge, five spokespersons and several police arrived just as he finished. Condemned to their fate, forty men and eight women stood in a long line across the courtyard.

Arthur was not pleased to be in the second group, better to get it over with quickly. His group had to watch from just a few meters away, presumably to further humiliate the criminal being punished and to torment the criminals anticipating their own beatings.

Arthur faced a young female criminal. She looked so young, probably seventeen or eighteen though if her hair wasn't braided she could've passed for fifteen. She stood on the other side of the table, looking so fragile and innocent, sandy-blond hair held in tight braids, lithe form with small breasts, smooth skin pale with fear, the curve of her hips not yet full, she stood nervously, shifting her weight with legs slightly parted. The girl's hair was shaved off as well, except for the traditional braids on her head that no guard would dare touch.

The young woman took in a sharp breath as a guard approached her with his switch in hand. She trembled; Arthur could see it from four meters away, the guard had certainly noticed.

Her skin turned even paler when he ordered her into position. She leaned forward across the table; when she looked up her eyes were already full of tears. Arthur didn't want to stare at someone in such a vulnerable state but he knew better than disobey direct orders right in front of a guard. The girl looked at Arthur briefly; he knew her desperation well, a subtle nod of encouragement was all he could offer though.

She was tougher than he thought she would be; staying silent and mostly still through the first 20 hard strokes of the switch. She kept her eyes shut tight; face rigid in an expression of agony, tears streamed down the bridge of her nose onto the flat metal surface. It was only when the guard struck several times along the tender flesh of her upper thighs that she cried out in a thin sharp voice. Her sobs blended with sounds of misery throughout the courtyard as the switching continued; some groaned, or screamed, or made hysterical sounds like demented laughter following the sound of switches whistling through the air and whipping down hard on already punished skin.

The guard concentrated his last few blows across the sensitive lower curves of the young woman's bottom, overlapping previous welts. She was crying hard, arms pulling in vain against leather restraints; she screamed horribly as he struck the last blow.

Once the restraints were removed her hands went immediately to her face as she cried hysterical with pain, writhing from side to side on the tabletop. The guard proudly yanked the violently sobbing young lady to her feet and marched her a short distance to display her severely beaten bottom and thighs to the judge. When he released his grip the weakened girl collapsed on the dusty ground; it seemed to amuse the guard to watch her struggle. It took her over a minute to crawl forward, kiss his shoes and hold back her sobs enough to thank him for the cruel beating.

There was a brief break, apparently for the judge's benefit, and then the second group of criminals were called up. Some of the same officers stayed and some new ones arrived; Arthur stared at the dirt and waited for Officer Stashak.

"Criminal # 88588, you will kneel before me!" Arthur was startled to look up and see the female Public Works officer who lectured him endlessly after the fight. He thought perhaps a two-hour drive was too inconvenient even for Stashak; a fortunate turn of events since the woman looked scrawny in comparison and she certainly wasn't driven by the kind of personal hatred that Stashak held toward him.

As Arthur stretched across the table and the officer began tightening the straps, he wondered if this was her first time. She was slower than everybody else getting his ankles bound and then she hurried to the front and started tightening the restraints on his wrists.

Arthur could feel blood gathering in his right hand. He considered not saying anything, but figured he really didn't have anything to lose at this point. "Officer, it's too tight, you're cutting off my circulation."

She gave the: "You will speak only when spoken to" line but she did loosen it a notch. Arthur glanced down the line- all the other guards and police were waiting for her to finish her clumsy attempts at wrapping the final strap around his waist. It seemed to embarrass her; as soon as she finished tightening the strap she yanked out her switch; whipping it through the air perhaps to regain some confidence.

The guards up and down the line glanced at one another and then all struck in unison. Arthur gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain calm. It was painful, just not as severe as he was used to. This switching, he hoped, might be tolerable. Methodical strikes of the switch every half minute or so followed; it was at least proceeding quickly.




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 13



Arthur pressed his forehead down on the aluminum tabletop still wet with the girl's tears. Half way through the punishment several criminals were crying out but he was still holding on. His tormentor looked uncomfortable as the American criminal remained silent.

She struck her hardest, intent on breaking his silence. Criminal # 88588 groaned and pulled at the restraints but even after the fiftieth blow he did not cry out as she wanted. Arthur got himself off the platform, quickly wiped away his tears and stood defiant once again.

The August sun made his punished skin burn even hotter; though it wasn't the same severity of his usual beating it was still an excruciating walk back to his cot. The pain would soon fade and he wouldn't have to worry about another switching until November. It wasn't much but that was the only positive thing Arthur could think of right then.

---------

The sun sets about two minutes earlier every day in August and September. Geese and ducks stopped to pick through the farmer's fields in October before migrating further south.

Other than stuff like that it was difficult for Arthur to distinguish one day from the next. It really didn't matter; the work was the same grueling struggle that left a person hungry, dirty and exhausted at the day's end.

Cold weather slowed work but didn't stop it; it was normally just the top few inches of soil that froze at night, and the metal claws of an excavator or dozer ripped through it reasonably well so the project could continue. Keeping on schedule was about the only thing that mattered to Public Works; in November they even issued real cold weather gear so criminals could work longer shifts and thick sleeping bags so they could endure the bitter nights. Even judicial punishments were moved indoors, though that was more for the guard's convenience than the criminal's comfort.

The frozen winter transitioned into a wet miserable spring, with the camp mired in a swamp of sticky red mud. It covered everything; workers wore the mud on skin and work clothes, and slept in muddy tents on muddy cots. Work continued regardless, even with irrigation ditches half full of floodwater and roads so sloppy that supply trucks had to be pulled by bulldozer.

By the end of March the Ministry of Public Works was already crowing about their tremendous accomplishment; completing over two hundred kilometers of irrigation canals before the summer growing season.

Arthur had to admit; it was impressive what a few pieces of heavy equipment and three thousand laborers could accomplish in nine months, but he didn't care much for the celebration that a handful of government officials held on the last week of the project. Arthur just wanted to leave the muddy fields behind and go back to Rika Chorna and Samantha.

---------

Samantha pushed a wheeled cart down the central isle of a long hospital ward, two rows of narrow beds set to her left and right. This was the children's section of the Rika Chorna Medical Center. Criminal # 88634 was near the end of her ten-hour shift; just a few more lunch platters to hand out. She wore a light old timey nurse's hat with pink stripes and matching canvas shoes that marked her as hospital staff, a position that translated to 'junior nurse' in English.

Though the hat and shoes were technically clothing, the Ministry of Justice was sometimes practical when it came to employment. Bare from ankle to forehead, Samantha still felt naked enough. Much of the staff working the more menial jobs at the hospital were criminals, including about three quarters of the other junior nurses, a euphemistic title for a job that was mostly cleaning, delivering meals and medicine to patients.

She stopped by the foot of the last bed. "Lyetta? Lyetta... are you still sleepy?"

The five-year old girl struggled to wake up. She made a small fist, and rolled her head on the pillow. The girl was too weak to sit up on her own; Samantha slipped a hand under her back and lifted her thin body forward so she could place a couple pillows behind her. Samantha set a tray on her lap and sat on the side of the bed not obstructed by the IV line. 

"Want to eat a little? I brought you applesauce!" Samantha scooped up a spoonful and did the universal airplane trick to get the child to eat. She got three spoonfuls of food down before Lyetta refused more and quickly fell back to sleep.

Samantha put away the tray and picked up the clipboard hanging on the foot of the bed to report how much the young patient had eaten. Less than yesterday... three weeks and the child had gotten steadily worse. Samantha caught herself looking at Lyetta's chest to see if she was still breathing.

Samantha stopped by the nurse's break room and talked to some of her co-workers who were just beginning their shifts. All her friends were employees at the hospital, mostly young women serving criminal sentences but some free people too. She fit in well enough, besides the foreign accent and the lighter complexion, the American was just one of the couple hundred criminals on staff that did the hard work that kept the hospital running smoothly.

She was on good terms with her superiors too. They appreciated how hard she worked, her attention to detail, and her willingness to work late or come in early if asked. A couple of the registered nurses had even encouraged her to pursue a nursing career. Spokesman Ralkliv liked the idea. She was still thinking it over and concentrating on her work. Criminal number 88634 was a model employee. Her usefulness kept her in Rika Chorna and out of the labor camps. 

Samantha's shift ended at four in the afternoon so she had plenty of time to go over to the spokesperson's offices and pick up her mail. A secretary was at the outer office, she looked through the cabinets and handed Samantha a bundle of letters. Samantha left the oppressive Police Headquarters building quickly.

The park to the north was inviting. It was a warm pleasant April afternoon; the crabapple trees were in bloom, countless honeybees hummed, working the blossoms overhead. Samantha sat in the soft grass and opened the bundle.

One letter from Arthur... she smiled and cringed, it was always something unexpected from him. Mothers should warn their daughters to never date a spy. She tore open the envelope and read. Samantha started breathing again when she realized he wasn't injured or in bad trouble again, just ordinary trouble. He was so infuriating sometimes but also daring and wild.

Samantha blushed and covered her mouth with a hand as she read. So sneaky! Such a bad boy! He could say the filthiest things in ways that the government sensors that scanned his mail could never figure out. So many clever metaphors! It was a game to him, a secret they shared. If Danubians only knew Criminal # 88588 like she did they would execute him on the spot! For the time being her spy was safe, slaving away far to the east on the big public works project, perhaps another couple weeks and they would be together.

One letter was from her older brother and one from her parents. Samantha didn't particularly want to open them. Relations with her family had been strained over the past few months. It all began when she telephoned her mother in August to tell her about her engagement to Arthur. Samantha remembered the silence.

"Mom?"

She heard her mother start crying: "Samantha... don't do this..."

She expected to be congratulated, instead, her mother cried and her father took the phone and tried to talk some sense into his daughter, encouraged her to break it off.

"Think of your future," he said. "When you get released next year we want you to come back home. You need to move on, I mean, I know you're close to Arthur but he won't be released for another 27 years, most of your life will be gone; think about this." He urged. "I know you've been through a lot Sammie..."

"No!" She had screamed into the phone. "No you don't know what I've been through, what Arthur's been through! He helped me, he held me when I was alone and scared, he suffered because he stood up for me! Now you want me to just throw him away! It's... dishonorable! I... I don't want to talk to you anymore!" Samantha had slammed the phone down, so mad she was shaking.

Several weeks later after many rebuffed attempts of her family to talk to her, Spokesman Ralkliv called her to his office and insisted that she contact her family. She made the phone call ready for a fight, but this time her parents were measured and cautious in their words. Though there was obvious reluctance, they accepted her decision, and there was an unspoken agreement that they just wouldn't talk about it again.

---------

Samantha waited anxiously at the train station. She had requested the day off when she received news that Arthur was returning. Airbrakes hissed, the metal on metal screech ceased and the crowd murmured as the doors to the passenger cars opened. Free people exited first then some male criminals started out the door carrying luggage for women and older passengers.

The men's shaved heads were tanned as the rest of their bronze skin. Samantha recognized Arthur's mischievous face among the crowd; he hauled two bags at the direction of an old woman. He spotted her too and winked. Samantha stayed back until he finished loading the woman's luggage in the back of a passenger van; in Danubia free people always came first.

Samantha squealed as Arthur scooped her up off the floor like a caveman, she noticed he had gained probably twenty pounds of muscle since she saw him last... he didn't look so skinny anymore. "Put me down!" She cried out in English. "Everyone's looking at us!"

"Well of course they are!" Arthur let go but still held her close. "We're pretty damn hot! I mean between your butt and my rugged good looks..."

"And my perky tits?" Samantha giggled.

"Perkiest tits I've ever seen, and who could blame these people for staring at my chiseled abs..." 

"And our modesty, they've got to be impressed by that!" Samantha added with a kiss.

"Yeah, we're way more modest than any of these jerks!"

Samantha leaned forward and whispered in Arthur's ear: "Um I don't think that guard over there likes us much... I think we should go now."

Arthur glanced at the guard. "Jealousy is such an ugly trait."

"Isn't it though." Samantha held his hand as they left the station. "So... where to?"

"I've got to go check in," Arthur gestured to the collar. "Scan me in and all that. Then I need to see Spokesman Ralkliv if he's around, I bet I got some mail."

"How many days off did they give you?"

"A bunch... we worked like 90 days in a row, so everybody's got free days coming. Can't take them all at once, but we're still technically working for Public Works until next Monday. Which means that I've got the Whole Damned Week Off!"

"Really?"

"Yep, probably should go see Mr. Jakt next." Arthur groaned. "I bet he hasn't even mowed the yard since I've been gone! And I need to go to the Church; I'll go to the Sunrise service in the morning. Hopefully my priestess won't be too rough on me, I've been studying as much as I can stand to but Danubian religious texts are some pretty dry reading."

---------

The next afternoon Arthur came to see Samantha during her break at the hospital. He sat down at a lunch table and ecstatically exclaimed: "I'm in!"

"In what?"

Arthur gestured wildly. "The Church, I'm in!"

"No way!"

"Yeah, see last night I found a note on Mr. Jakt's front door. It was from my priestess. The note told me to come to church this morning an hour earlier than usual. When I got there she was waiting for me. I started to ask questions but she told me to be quiet and follow her. She led me down into this torch lit chamber in the basement with a pool of water in the floor. And uh, she gave me a bath."

Samantha's eyes widened. "She gave you a bath?"

"Yeah... I mean, not like a bubble bath or anything. It was all ritualized she would use a big bronze pitcher to pour water on me and chant verses from the religious texts. Then she dried me off and had me follow her into the Church. There were probably four hundred worshipers waiting for the service to start. She took me up front and introduced me as a full member of the Danubian Church! Can you believe it?"

"Damn. I can't believe it finally worked." Samantha eyes widened. "Still, that's a lot of trouble to go to; I mean you don't know that a judge will reward you for converting... I mean all the others are in the Church too."

"Well... it's not like that... not anymore. Okay," he admitted, "it did start out as one of my schemes but my priestess really helped me out a lot. I mean... she didn't have to but she made sure I learned to read and write Danubian- you should have seen all the workbooks she sent me when I was working up in the park.

Other things too; she even got me to reconcile with my mother and Mr. Andreis. I think it did me some good; not a bad religion really, I could get used to it. You ought to give it a try," Arthur shrugged. "It comes with a free bath."

Samantha took a sip of coffee. "Um, no thanks... I think I'll stick with Jesus."

---------

Samantha rested on Arthur's chest, breathing heavy; the sheen of sweat made hot skin sticky. She placed her head on his shoulder; felt his quick breaths and heartbeat. Samantha smiled, kissing her lover playfully and then she rose off his hips and rolled by his side. The mat of spongy green mosses softened the moist forest floor to an almost be bed-like consistency. Cool shade from a grove of conifers kept their secluded hideaway nice and comfortable.

"Ooh," Arthur reached underneath himself. "So that's what that was!"

"You sat on a pinecone!" Samantha snickered: Why... why didn't you say something?"

"I don't know," Arthur grinned. "I was busy at the time."

Samantha pushed on his hip. "Turn over... let me look... you've got." She shook with laughter. "Pinecone... impression," she cackled. "On... your butt!"

"Damn!" Arthur threw the smashed pinecone in the water. "Next time you get the bottom." He cringed. "Oh great! I have to go see Ralkliv in the morning... and a judge! Man! I hope it goes away. I really don't want to explain this!"

Eventually the humor of the situation was exhausted and they lay back down, with Samantha's head resting on Arthur's shoulder. They enjoyed the moment; pine needles made a gentle swishing sound in a slight breeze, several yellow and brown warblers competed for nesting sites twenty meters up.

Arthur thought of something. "So... wanna come over and see Mr. Jakt's house tomorrow... I finished it this morning. Today's the eighth of May; I've been here for three years and just now got that house painted."

"You know," Arthur continued. "I had it all ready about three weeks after my arrest, had the paint scraped and everything and it rained. The next week," Arthur laughed. "I got sent to that labor camp, and then they sent me up to the lake and when I came back it was winter. But it's done now; looks pretty sharp too. Mr. Jakt's real proud of his yellow house with green trim; he even wants to cook a supper for us. Just give me a few hours, wanna come over about five?"

"Sure... right after work." Samantha studied Arthur's face. "You don't even seem nervous about tomorrow... I was always a mess."

"I guess I've mellowed out... I mean, I still dread it, but I just don't think about it much until its time... it's just a part of life I've got to deal with... got no choice really."

Arthur grimaced. "I mean... Mr. Jakt thinks he's a good cook, thinks it's a big treat when he cooks for me, but the last special meal he made had me outside vomiting half the night. God," Arthur clutched his stomach. "It feels like he's trying to preserve me from the inside out!"

"Actually," Samantha rolled her eyes but played along: "I was referring to the beating."

"Oh... that... yeah I am a little nervous about that but not nearly as much as I used to be. You know, I haven't even seen Officer Stashak in a year- not that I miss her- but I thought it was strange that she didn't come out to the camp in August, November or February."

"Maybe she quit the force or moved." Samantha said.

"No, Ralkliv mentioned her, she's still here..." Arthur took a sharp breath. "Hmm... maybe Mr. Andreis talked to her."

Samantha shrugged. "Maybe she'll go easy on you."

Arthur and Samantha looked at one another. "Yeah, Right!"

"Let's see." Arthur started figuring. "May has thirty one days, and today's the eighth, that's thirty one days until June eighth. Just think, next month you'll have one of those weird white rings around your neck. And it's too hot to wear a scarf, boy are you going to look strange."

Arthur stroked her cheek sadly. "Poor Samantha ... she'll have to start buying clothes again."

Samantha groaned. "How on Earth did I end up with you?" 

Arthur started recounting the sequence. "Boy meets girl, girl gets arrested, boy and girl get sent to hard labor camp... girl's fault by the way... then you seduced me."

"I seduced you?"

"Yep," Arthur said. "I was completely innocent."

Samantha scoffed. "I think you're confusing innocent and stupid. The fa..." Then Samantha yelped out and scrambled to her feet as a water snake swam across the pond. "Aaii... it's... sn...Sna!"

Arthur looked around with surprise. "A Sna? Where? I haven't seen a Sna in years! Wait..." Arthur turned to the snake and shrugged. "Girls." Then he took off after Samantha.

He struggled through the thick barrier of evergreens; Samantha had been extra dramatic and ran all the way back to the trail. Arthur was having a good time enjoying her terror over a little snake.

Arthur shouted: "Heck, I didn't know you could run like that..."

Samantha didn't even look at him, she stood in the trail; and then Arthur heard a man's voice. Arthur walked out beside her. A couple police officers were approaching.

Arthur's pulse pounded; he recognized the policewoman as one of the cops who used to harass him every day after work. Samantha knelt down; Arthur stepped beside her and did the same.

The officers stopped a couple meters from them. The young policeman deferred to his older partner.

"Stand up." The policewoman ordered. Arthur and Samantha stood facing the police partners.

"You are aware," she said. "That there are strict rules against lewd and indecent behavior in Danubian public parks?"

"Yes officer." Samantha and Arthur answered nervously; it was obvious what they had been up to.

The policewoman sternly continued. "Such an act in a public place is a criminal offense. We expect all persons, especially convicted criminals, to be respectful of the law. Do you understand this?"

"Yes officer," Both Samantha and Arthur felt sick; she was so close to her scheduled release date.

The police woman looked at Arthur. She glanced down, then raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "If either of you should see any such offensive behavior, be sure and report it to the proper authorities. Is that clear?"

"Yes officer," Arthur started breathing again. "We will... um... be sure to keep our eyes open."

The police partners continued on. Arthur and Samantha looked at one another, breathing heavy. If the policewoman meant to scare them, it worked.

---------

The eighth of June was a special day, Samantha and twelve other criminals made a rare happy trip up the courtroom steps, Arthur walked by her side. Her three-year sentence was going to be over in a matter of minutes.

Samantha's nervous goofy smile made Arthur laugh. "I'm wondering how many guards it's going to take to wrestle your head into the collar machine- what was it last time four or five?"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Arthur, your totally messing up the dignified nature of this moment- and it was only three guards."




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 13



"Oh, excuse me... I'm not real sure what to say at an event like this; maybe they sell de-collaring greeting cards downtown?"

Once inside Arthur stood in the vacant area usually reserved for court officials. The ceremony was quick and simple. A line of male and female criminals formed at the front of the courtroom. When it was her turn a very proud Spokesman Ralkliv stepped forward and proclaimed to the judge that his client was indeed ready for release. Samantha was crying happily when she knelt in front of the collar machine. White skin formed a ring low on her suntanned neck, Samantha and the other former criminals listened to the judge's short speech and then posed with their broken collars for a series of pictures.

Arthur had brought the engagement jewelry along; with the traditional white dress, braided hair, and jewelry Samantha now looked like a traditional Danubian woman. More importantly, the sentence was over, the torment and humiliation was over, Samantha was free.

Her first priority was to move out of her host's household; which the couple wanted as well since they could no longer order her around like a slave. For the remaining time before their October wedding Samantha had arranged to stay in the household of one of her friends from work; it was a major improvement.

Arthur and Samantha spent some of their very limited spare time looking around the city for a place to live. Arthur's fame preceded him; if landlords had 'No Spies Allowed' signs on their doors it would have simplified things considerably. Not everyone cared though, especially in the less fashionable neighborhoods.

To Arthur, a person who had spent much of the past few years sleeping next to a horse or in a crowded army tent, every house looked good. Samantha was more discriminating but they eventually decided on a decent small rental house that would be available in September.

---------

One day in June Spokesman Ralkliv called Arthur to his office to discuss an interesting opportunity. After three long years of searching; Ralkliv thought he had a good chance at getting his client a job with a private employer.

Of course, no self-respecting Danubian company was eager to have an enemy of the state in the office but this particular business used American software and was getting pretty desperate for a person who was both skilled with computers and fluent in English.

Ralkliv seemed almost as excited as his client as they went to meet with the manager. Arthur took the opportunity to shamelessly brag about his technical skills, education, and experience. Ralkliv's lips tightened as he listened to Arthur talk; he never could get his American client to act as humble as he was supposed to.

There was a brief tour and then, about an hour into the interview the manager sat down with Spokesman Ralkliv to discuss the conditions in which he could hire his client. Arthur sat silently to the side while they discussed his future.

Arthur had the job offer but there was a problem: an espionage conviction came with many restrictions; as it was Arthur couldn't even touch a computer or use a telephone except the one in his spokesman's office. And only a judge could lift those restrictions

Ralkliv pulled a few strings and got Arthur a hearing before one of the more open-minded judges. He argued that his client was not the national security threat they once thought he was; Criminal number 88588 was simply a young man who had acknowledged his mistakes and was trying to turn his life around.

Ralkliv pointed to Arthur's somewhat improved behavior, his engagement to Samantha, and his conversion to the Faith of the Ancients as evidence that he was making real progress toward reforming himself. It would be a mistake to hold him back from his potential.

The judge questioned Arthur extensively trying to uncover any hidden agenda, but unable to do so, he finally gave permission. Arthur started work the next day. For Arthur, it was a real treat to do work that required thinking instead of muscle and endurance.

That summer, everything that Arthur wanted seemed to fall into place. Samantha received the residency papers that allowed her to live in Danubia and the Ministry of Justice officially permitted the marriage. Their wedding was scheduled for the first Sunday in October; Arthur's priestess would perform the ceremony in the grove outside the Cathedral.

Wedding preparations were complicated in Danubia. There were meetings with government officials, classes they had to attend, and religious rituals that had to be performed.

Samantha was completely embarrassed by one such ritual. Part of a Danubian woman's Correct Path in Life was to bear children so of course they didn't see anything wrong with blessing her whole reproductive system. Arthur rolled about laughing when he found out some priest had blessed Samantha's vagina, remarking that: 'now he would definitely have to be more careful down there.'

In early September Mr. Jakt took Arthur out to a farm to pick up a gift. Mr. Jakt was playing the role of Arthur's father during the wedding and part of a Danubian father's duty was to provide the wedding sheep. Arthur named it T-Bone and kept it in Mr. Jakt's back yard.

Samantha left Danubia on the second week in September; she had plans to visit friends and family in the US and then escort her parents back for the wedding. It was far from the circumstances they envisioned for their only daughter's wedding but as her mom had said: Honey, if you really want to marry a naked criminal with a tracking collar around his neck then, uh... (At this point she usually broke down crying).

Tee visited for a couple days on the same week that Samantha left. Tee had been living in Belgium with her boyfriend, who was a mid-level bureaucrat for the US State Department. Arthur teased her about dating a thirty-year old geezer but she didn't seem to mind the age difference.

As the summer neared its end, Arthur spent most of his free time at the Church. The clergy always needed volunteers during the week leading up to the Day of the Dead; a time when the thoughts of most Danubians turned to their own mortality and the spirits of the dead.

Criminal number 88588 preferred to think about the living. He had a girl whom he loved, a career offering real opportunities, a few friends, and the Church services were even starting to make sense. For the first time since his arrest Arthur felt like his plans for the future were finally coming together. The life he wanted was just within his grasp.



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 14



Chapter 14: The River

Arthur liked the Danubian clergy, mostly because the priests and priestesses treated criminals like him about the same as they did free people. It felt good to be spoken with like a human being instead of spoken at like a number. When Arthur was in the city he always tried to attend services; normally it was hard to find the time, but on this special day all of Danubia's criminals were off work.

The massive bell rang one last time, deep reverberating tones faded to inaudible levels and the crowd of a couple thousand worshipers turned their attention toward the entrance. Families clustered in groups of ten or twenty; parents and children stood with grandparents and other relatives, all were dressed in simple black prayer robes except for an occasional nude collared criminal or penitent family member, their skin tone standing out in a mass of black.

The Cathedral was the largest and oldest of Rika Chorna's many temples, a massive stone structure dating back to the decades following the eastern people's exodus from Lower Danubia. A group of clergy stood high at the church entrance facing the rising sun, chanting a prayer in archaic Danubian for gathered worshipers to repeat. The ancient prayer called upon the Creator to remove false visions from the minds of the faithful before they entered the temple.

Arthur waited for most of the congregation to enter before he passed between the massive wood and bronze doors. There were no pews inside, just a cavernous room with vaulted ceilings, patterned rugs on the floor, and an elevated dais at the front. Worshipers stood with their families, forming long orderly rows across the chamber. Arthur stood with a group of worshipers who came alone.

Despite it being an important day, the service followed the normal format. There were hymns sung, rituals of fire and purification, and a women's choir performed in the uniquely Danubian style with contrasting vocal pitch taking the place of instrumental music. The service concluded with a sermon.

The congregation got down on their knees and knelt upright while an elderly priest dressed in a black robe and tall cylindrical hat spoke on the subject of suffering and redemption. Arthur listened intently; suffering had been a big part of his life for the past three years. Redemption was more of a relative concept, but Arthur did have something specific in mind.

There were just a few worshipers remaining when Arthur turned to leave the Holy Cathedral; then he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Arthur," the young priestess said. "It is good to see you here at the temple again; I want to again express my gratitude for all the help you have given the Church. The Temple Archivist said that the English translations that you made have put his project ahead of schedule by weeks."

The priestess was about his age, tall and thin, with sharp expressive features that complimented her energetic determined nature. She had been his spiritual advisor for almost three years. Arthur thought she viewed him as a challenge, a chance to prove herself; she was eager and driven where others might have advised caution and patience. To drag a prideful, greedy, deceptive criminal toward the Correct Path was one thing, but to reform the infamous American spy- now that would be something to brag about, but of course Danubians (especially clergy) didn't do that sort of thing.

"I remember that day clearly when you first came to the temple three years ago. Everyone talked about that terrible crime you were involved in. At first I was suspicious, I thought you were simply acting interested in the faith to gain something, but throughout these past three years I have seen a tremendous change come over you. Arthur, it has been an honor to help guide you back toward your True Path in Life."

"The honor is all mine, priestess. When I first came to the Church I was skeptical." Arthur grinned. "I never would have thought that I would become a religious person again; I hadn't gone to any kind of church since I was fifteen years old. But I suppose I'm not the same person I used to be."

She smiled brightly. "Arthur, it will be good to have you with us on our most holy observance."

"I too have been looking forward to this day for a very long time priestess and I have a feeling that this Day of the Dead will have special significance for me."

There was the slightest hint of a smile on Arthur's face as he walked purposefully away from the church.

---------

On the second night of the Day of the Dead the marchers filed into a city park to rest. They set down their torches and slings, got a drink, and took bathroom breaks. The rest was brief; after a few minutes the priests called on the marchers to reform a line so they could have their ghoulish black on white body paint retouched and their torches refueled and lighted. Soon the entire criminal population of Rika Chorna walked in fire-lit columns through the dark city streets, all except one.

Arthur had deliberately been one of the last to visit the restroom; there were five empty stalls, including the one that he wanted on the left. He stood on top of the toilet seat, lifted a vent panel off the wall and retrieved a packet that he had placed there the day before. Tucking it under his arm along with his sling and torch he stepped outside the door and glanced toward the priests thirty meters away. Arthur waited in the shadows behind the building; five minutes passed. Keeping low to the ground and moving slowly he looked around the corner. No one had noticed his absence, it was clear.

Arthur ran down one of Rika Chorna's many walking trails; one that lead to the south side of the business district. After a thirty minute run, he stopped, set the torch and sling down on the trail and opened the heavy plastic bag. He removed two items: a hexagonal screwdriver and a small flashlight fitted with a blue filter.

Arthur cautiously approached a large metal building; ordinarily it would have been illuminated but on this one holiday all its lights were turned off. A thin line of fire glowed a couple kilometers to the north as he crept toward the rear of the building. This was the water rescue-training center run by Natural Resources, and it had a few items Arthur wanted to borrow.

There was a boiler room at the back of the building that was unfinished and un-insulated inside; Arthur unscrewed the lower edge of a piece of sheet metal enough so he could squeeze through, once inside he turned on his light and walked to a supply room, he took three items and then promptly left the building.

Arthur replaced a couple of the screws to hold the metal down and then he carried his new equipment back to the trail. He packed everything carefully inside the bag, tied the bundle securely, threw it over his shoulder and ran west, until he came to a small murky pond half filled with leaves shed from overhanging tree limbs.

Taking a length of thin nylon rope he bound the package with a double-constrictor knot and waded into the center, his bare feet sank through black layers of rotting leaves, bubbles of methane churned to the surface with each squishy unpleasant step. When the water was just above his knees Arthur let the package sink. He buried the free end of the rope a couple inches deep in the pond bank, and placed a perfectly ordinary rock, though one he would recognize, on top. After that it was only a matter of retrieving the torch and sling, taking another hiking trail to yet another park and waiting.

---------

No one noticed the figure hidden at the forest's edge as the line of convicted criminals and penitents entered the park, the last scheduled rest stop of the March. The fires they carried provided the only light; the rest of Rika Chorna was blacker than the moonless sky. A seemingly endless line of tired and thirsty marchers filed into the park and the dedicated clergy attended to their needs.

With the darkness pierced only by a few pale fires it was remarkably easy for him to slip back into their midst; Criminal # 88588 simply walked out, had a couple glasses of the berry punch that stained his mouth red as blood, and then like most everyone else, he reclined in the soft dew-covered grass and rested.

A few minutes passed and then Arthur lined up with everyone else. A priest frowned and remarked about the poor condition of his body paint, especially from the knees down; Arthur just shrugged as they repainted him.

The holiday ended at dawn, and then the criminals cleaned up, ate breakfast, and traveled to the police station to pick up their winter gear. Arthur reported to work just before noon; the workload was easy and the day was short. It was like that all over the city as people recovered from the Day of the Dead; work schedules were cut back and people commonly took the rest of the day off if they could.

Arthur had observed the Danubians carefully during his previous three years, noting that the celebration of the fall equinox with all its activities and two nights without much rest left most of the population sleepy- and not too alert.

---------

Jakt was asleep early that night, as was most everyone. Arthur pulled on his orange work boots, laced them up tight and walked to the door. It screeched and rattled as he opened it, it really didn't matter; Jakt slept as if in a coma. Arthur paused, briefly looking back at his occasional home for over three years; then he shut the door behind him and walked away.

Outwardly calm, Arthur traveled the same path he always took to the criminal's club. This time however, instead of continuing east he turned south into a dark forested park, and then, when he was sure he wasn't being observed Arthur sprinted back to the pond he visited the previous night.

Reaching into the mud, his fingers found the end of the rope; he fished out the package and unwrapped it. Once he had put the twenty-pound boat anchor back into the water, the pack was considerably lighter.

Arthur took out a can of black shoe polish. "I- Fucking- Hate- Orange!"

Arthur spoke loud enough to surprise himself. "Focus 885... Uh, I mean Arthur... gotta stay focused." He took steady even breaths as he rubbed black on his issued orange work boots.

Next he covered all the skin he could reach in cold dark mud scooped from the pond bank. That done, he bound up his pack, threw it over his shoulder and took another trail westward. After a hard thirty-minute run he came to a place where the trail crossed a paved road. One of the yellow warning signs marking the edge of the Rika Chorna Collar Zone lie directly ahead.

Arthur stopped and opened the packet. He pulled out a roll of electrical tape and began wrapping his collar. After going all the way around it he used the flashlight and a small mirror to see if there was any uncovered metal remaining.

Satisfied, he went into his package again and removed a roll of metallic foil that had been cut into two-inch wide strips. In the same fashion he carefully wrapped the collar in foil. He repeated with two other rolls, and then with some difficulty, covered the foil with the remaining electrical tape.

Four months into his sentence he had thought of something peculiar. His collar had never been charged; if it were a transmitting collar he thought its battery would have surely worn down by then. Perhaps, he speculated, the collar was not an active transmitter but a passive unit like the radio frequency tags used in shipping.

Arthur reasoned that the government would only know a criminal's whereabouts when he passed by a detector. The outer perimeter must be lined with them, as soon as a collar passed through that electrical field, a current would be induced and the collar's antenna would transmit its identifying characteristics back to the detector.

If that was the case, he reasoned, the government would not know a criminal's location all the time, and more importantly if a collar was disabled it wouldn't immediately be noticed.

One night in his second summer Arthur built up the nerve to test his idea; that night he stepped across the boundary of the Collar Zone and traveled into the woods a few hundred feet. He thought the foil would effectively shield the collar's antenna from the electric field as long as there was an insulator between the metal collar and the foil. After an agonizing wait he realized it had worked, and Arthur, from that point on, knew that he had a real chance at escaping.

Praying to the ghost of Michael Faraday, Arthur stepped past the Collar Zone sign and continued toward the rail yard on the western side of the city. This was not a train station but a loading area for heavy cargo, chemical tankers, and aggregate. The lot wasn't illuminated much and there was clearly just a skeleton crew running the night operation but Arthur knew that this was one of the most dangerous parts of his plan.

Staying low to the ground he crept up to the chain link fence that surrounded the terminal. Using a pair of wire cutters he made a three foot high slice in the fence and squeezed through. After tightly binding up his pack, Arthur moved closer to the rail cars. They were already loaded and the locomotive was ready to move west toward Danube City. Train schedules were something you could count on in Danubia, and this one was scheduled to leave at 10:05 PM.

Arthur crept along a gully that paralleled the track until he could find a suitable car. There were locked container cars, and tankers, but the type he wanted was open on the top and used for hauling aggregate. A hundred feet downstream he found a suitable car and slowly moved up toward the rails. Arthur waited and listened for about five minutes before making his move; he climbed the outside of the car and jumped inside. Relieved that no one had noticed him; Arthur looked through his bag and put on a wristwatch. It was 9:45 PM; there was nothing more to do but wait.

Right on schedule the train began moving at 10:05 PM. Arthur spent the next few hours lying on top of a load of gravel and going over the next phase of his plan in his head. At one o'clock in the morning the train rolled past one of the smaller provincial capitals. Eighty kilometers ahead was Danube City and the part that made him the most nervous.

Rika Chorna he knew well. Over the past three years Arthur had studied the city carefully. He knew its roads and trails well enough to draw them from memory. He knew the location of fences and guard posts; he knew which facilities had watchdogs posted, as well as ways to move about without being seen.

Arthur had little first-hand knowledge of Danube City though. He had studied several maps and aerial photographs of the city but that was it. He would have to depend on the cover of darkness, and the fatigue brought on by the Day of the Dead to help him pass by undetected.

The heavily loaded train started slowing three miles from the Danube City rail-yard. Arthur threw his pack over his shoulder and carefully looked for a relatively safe place to jump. When the train slowed to about ten km per hour Arthur climbed down the outside of the car to the lowest rung and leapt. He hit the ground on his feet but tripped, rolling down the slope and landing with a splash in a foul-smelling puddle at the bottom of the ditch.

Scraped but otherwise uninjured, Arthur crawled out of the mud and examined his surroundings. The rail-yard was only one and a half kilometers from the East Danube River; the ditch went westward through the well-lighted complex so he would have to find another way around. There were just two options: north or south.

To the south, on the far side of the ditch, a hundred meters of un-mowed grass and weeds separated him and a one-lane access road that he recognized from the map. That road continued west for 1.2 kilometers, passing near several residences. The glow of electric lights in that direction was more than he expected. The aerial photographs of Danube City were over five years old, perhaps Arthur thought; the southern route was no longer safe.

Before he could examine the northern route Arthur had to wait five minutes for the train to stop, then he scrambled under a rail car and moved north. Arthur knew that a half-kilometer directly to the north of the rails there was a boundary between the industrial and residential zones. The aerial photos showed a strip of forested land in between that extended all the way to the river; he hoped it was still there.

Arthur couldn't see any lights to the northwest, but he did find an eight-foot high fence covered in vines, he grasped the wire in his fingers and pulled himself easily over the top. On the far side of the fence was an overgrown lot with lines of empty shipping containers parked inside.

Arthur sneaked past two hundred meters of empty containers, and came to a fence twice his height. A dog barked not far away. Arthur climbed on top of a container close to the fence, leapt and caught hold, rolled over the top and dropped down the outside.

A flashlight beam darted in his direction, but Arthur was already in the tall brush running west. The barking receded behind him as he sprinted along a rocky gully with thick vegetation to either side, after ten minutes he heard the rush of the East Danube River.

Arthur touched his fingertips to the cold water. He figured it must be fifty degrees already; unprotected, a man wouldn't survive in that for long. The flood had subsided but the river was still above its banks and flowing in the middle at around 18 kilometers per hour.

He opened the packet and pulled out the dry-suit that he gathered from the training center; after squeezing into the insulated watertight suit he stuffed the rest of his supplies into the bag and strapped it to his leg using Tee's snakeskin belt. Sealed in the dry-suit with only his face exposed Arthur stepped into the swift current.

Samantha would have quite a surprise if the rest of his plan worked or a nasty surprise if it failed. Arthur had planned his own escape since midway through his first year, though back then he knew not to make the attempt until he was ready.

His sister's first trip was not to visit; Arthur needed an accomplice. He told her of his discovery, how he could disable the collar and how he planned to escape. Tee was as enthusiastic as always to be part of his plans.

Tee and Arthur had something else in common besides the odd behavior; they knew how to keep a secret. During her last trip they carefully went over every aspect of the plan and then said what might have been their last insults to one another.

Arthur never considered telling Samantha; that would have been too big of a risk for both of them. Though she had been confused by his insistence that she postpone her trip to California until September; she had, in the end done exactly as he wanted, so she would either be back in the US when he made a surprise appearance home, or she would be out of the reach of the Danubian authorities if his attempt failed.

Arthur wondered what he would say to her if he got back. Would she be angry that he hadn't shared his plan with her? Probably, he thought, but the anger would fade and they would get on with their lives.

It was bad about the wedding. Many people would be in for a shock. To make everything look convincing he had to go through all the normal steps required before a Danubian wedding. Jakt, Spokesman Ralkliv and his family, all of Arthur's contacts at the Church, and many friends that both he and Samantha had acquired during the past few years would probably feel betrayed. That was unfortunate but necessary; if he succeeded there would be no one there to wed, if he failed there would be nothing to attend but an execution.

He trusted one person with his life: his sister Tee. She had come through for him, even at the cost of sacrificing much of her own life to give her brother a chance to escape. Her diplomat boyfriend, whom she didn't even like, had the connections that Arthur needed to return to the US quietly without a passport.




The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 14



Once he crossed the southern border she would be ready, with a change of clothes, transportation, and he hoped, a stack of hacksaw blades. The collar seemed tighter than ever now that he was just hours from escape, but it was time to focus on the present. 

Arthur swam out to the fastest flow in the river's middle, then flipped on his back and stared up at the sky. To the east Orion the Hunter glittered in the pitch-black night. Eridanus the River meandered further to the south. Arthur had always thought this constellation difficult to find, but tonight enveloped in the cold East Danube waters it seemed that the stars were especially bright to the south. By dawn he figured he would be eighty miles downstream near the southern border.

---------

Flurries blew in serpentine waves across the sidewalk and piled a centimeter high against the empty fountain. Spokesman Ralkliv was careful to avoid icy patches on the stairs. He took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked down the hallway to his office.

His secretary was busy filling out forms, she paused. "Sir, this package was delivered this morning; the courier said it was mailed from America but it didn't have a return address on it."

Ralkliv picked up the large box, which weighed 10 or 11 kilograms, and took it back into his private office. He sliced though the tape with a penknife and opened the top. Inside, strangely enough, was another large box but this one was wrapped up like a present with a bow on top.

Ralkliv lifted the wrapped box out of the larger one, cut the ribbon, and removed the lid. Inside was a curious collection of items with a letter on top. He read the signature on the last page, then dropped it and hurriedly dug through the box.

He felt its cold edge before he saw it. For a few seconds he just stared at it. The curved metal piece had been roughly sawed through right in front of the engraved # 88588. Other objects inside included some kind of a scuba suit, a flashlight, a wristwatch, a few tools and an envelope with American money in it. Ralkliv threw it all back in the box and picked up the letter.

Spokesman Ralkliv,

Enclosed in this package are the items that I borrowed for use in my escape. The dry suit and wristwatch were taken from the MNR's water rescue center; all the other tools belong to Jakt. It was necessary to cut a perimeter fence on the south side of the Rika Chorna rail yard so I sent some cash to cover repairs. I was a criminal for over three years but I'm not a vandal or thief after all.

I wish I could have written earlier to explain what happened and to make clear that no one else inside Danubia had any knowledge of my plans. Not even Samantha knew; this whole operation was carried out with the help of only one other person from the outside, and I imagine you could guess who that was.

It took years of preparation for my plan to succeed, so I hope you don't take too much blame for not keeping control of me. The reason I waited to write this letter was that I had some difficulty convincing the US government that I am the same Arthur Liggett who was arrested overseas three and a half years ago.

As I'm sure you're aware there is no formal extradition treaty between the US and the Duchy, but being cautious, I wanted some extra protection before making my whereabouts known. It took four additional months to gain my new legal status; now, from what my lawyer tells me, so long as I stay in the United States I'm beyond the reach of your government.

When I showed up in California Samantha just stared at me like I was a space alien who had knocked on her front door. It was kind of funny; she didn't even recognize me at first since she'd never seen me dressed before.

Samantha was confused, angry, and ecstatic all at once. After a couple tumultuous months we got married in her family church (there are a couple photos taped to the underside of the lid). My mother and her third husband attended as well as my sister Tee. Samantha and I now live in Louisiana, near Baton Rouge, strangely enough it's not far from where I lived when this whole adventure began three and half years ago.

It was unfortunate that we had to part in such an unpleasant manner; I do appreciate all you did on my behalf but I needed to do what was in my own best interest. I suppose another man in my situation might have focused on reforming himself and learned to gracefully accept his humble status in life with honor and humility. But I guess my mother was right about me always being so stubborn and defiant - the only change I was willing to make was a change of address.

By the way, I didn't return the collar to taunt or gloat about my escape. When I got the thing sawed off in the hotel room rented by my accomplice, I just threw it in a box with everything else and took it with me. I didn't want to even look at the thing anymore, but it felt wrong to throw it in the trash so I decided to send it back to the Duchy with all the other stuff. Maybe it can be recycled into something more pleasant.

I hope our friends and acquaintances can forgive us, or at least forgive Samantha since she didn't mean to deceive them like I did. My contact information is written on the back of this sheet if any of them still care to reach us. I would be pleased to hear from you too spokesman, as long as it's not in your official capacity, that is.

Arthur Liggett

With a furious growl, Spokesman Ralkliv threw the letter down and shoved the box off his desk; the flashlight, tools, and broken collar skidded across the hard gray floor tiles. He stood there breathing heavy for a moment then sullenly collapsed back into his chair with his head clenched in the palms of both hands.

"Why..." Ralkliv rubbed his temples vigorously.

Alarmed at the noise; his secretary hurried into his office to find the floor covered in all sorts of junk. Ralkliv was completely unresponsive, leaning forward in his chair holding his head as though he had a furious headache. He ignored her completely and just sat there asking that same question over and over.

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Why did I save him from the firing squad?"



The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 15



Chapter 15: The Christmas Trip

Samantha Liggett stood in line at the local post office. She insisted that all the people waiting behind her go first. Most people were there to retrieve oversized Christmas presents. When it was Samantha's turn she picked up a different sort of package. The plain brown cardboard box weighed just about ten pounds and it had a Rika Chorna postmark on the lid.

She placed the box in the backseat of her car and drove directly home. She looked for an old Ford Bronco in the apartment's parking lot; Arthur wasn't home yet. Samantha carried the box inside and placed it on the couch.

She used a key to rip the tape. The shipping label had the name of her friend Katya on it- former friend now. Samantha had worked with Katya at the hospital for two years and even lived as a guest in her family home for a couple months after her release from custody. Katya, as Samantha's closest friend, had been looking forward to taking part in the wedding; the wedding that never happened.

Samantha opened the box. There were several personal items that she had left behind at Katya's home. Samantha had taken what she expected to be a short trip back to America. Then suddenly, inexplicably, she had answered the door at her parents' house and Arthur was there, just casually standing on the porch in a blue tee shirt and jeans. It didn't make any sense. Who was this person: a twin brother, a hallucination?

With a straight face, Arthur had said: "I'm looking to take advantage of an innocent young lady; have you seen one around?" Samantha had nearly passed out.

A little later she figured out what he had done and slapped him; then she kissed him again, then she screamed at him for taking such a risk and slapped him again. It went on like that for a while. Arthur thought it was awfully funny. That day Arthur thought everything was hilarious.

The days that followed were especially hard. Spokesman Ralkliv had called to report the disappearance of Criminal # 88588. Ralkliv described the circumstances.

According to Mr. Jakt and several other acquaintances, Arthur had complained that his new job was getting him out of shape, so for much of the summer he had been getting up before dawn to exercise. Every morning Arthur ran kilometers of city trails.

Several witnesses reported that at the end of his run, Criminal # 88588 always took a swim across the small river that runs through Rika Chorna. Afterwards, he would go back home, clean up, eat breakfast and then head off to work. On the morning of September twenty-fourth, Arthur Liggett didn't return.

Ralkliv described how authorities searched the park with dogs and searched the river using boats and divers but they were unable to find any sign of him. Then Ralkliv had to give Samantha the sad news: Arthur Liggett had likely drowned and was presumed dead.

Samantha had to suffer through all the condolences for her loss even as she spent her days with Arthur. There were messages from her friends, and Arthur's priestess, and the staff at the hospital in Rika Chorna. It hurt worst when Mr. Jakt called. Out of all the Danubians, he had been closest to Arthur. Samantha had little choice but to keep Arthur's real situation secret for a while; Arthur had so many tricky legal matters to work out first.

Samantha looked through the box that Katya had sent her. Katya could no longer be a friend but she had had the decency to pack up and return some of Samantha's personal items.

There were pictures in the box, photographs of her, Laura and Arthur, some photos of her friends from work, a couple pictures of her posing with the two kids of her first host family.

Criminal collar # 88634 was there too; she picked it up. With the latch pin removed it hung open in her hands. Looking at it made her shiver; she set it on the couch. At the bottom of the box was something wrapped in newspaper. She unfolded it carefully. Holding it in her hand, Samantha couldn't help but cry. The gray stone was roughly shaped like Idaho, with a shiny black trilobite fossil on one side. 

She wasn't sad though, Samantha was grateful for her new life. Arthur had risked all to get himself free; and although he would never admit it, Samantha knew that he had waited because of her.

When her sentence was over and she was safely out of the country, he made his move. Arthur gambled and he won. All that deception and guile was considered dishonorable in a Danubian view, but it was still, she thought, a remarkable thing.

---------

Samantha still had a couple more Christmas gifts to wrap and one more suitcase to pack. She packed Arthur's bag for him; otherwise he would probably take off without packing any clothes at all, he rarely thought about practical things. She had just finished when the phone rang.

Samantha slung her hair to the side and picked up the receiver: "Hello... Oh, Hi... Yes ma'am, I'm doing fine... oh, I'm sorry ma'am," Samantha laughed nervously. "Um... Clara, it's just a habit, I guess... yeah, I'm packing right now ma'am... we should be ready to leave soon... oh, no ma'am, Arthur went to get the car serviced... Oh, I'll be sure to tell him... it will be good to see her again... okay ma'am; sorry... I keep doing that." Samantha forced another laugh. "Okay Clara, we'll see you then. Bye-bye."

Samantha breathed a sigh of relief to be off the phone with her mother. It had been a rough adjustment period transitioning from Danubian Criminal to free American. People didn't know what to think of her now. She was almost insanely polite and respectful; Samantha felt compelled to call everyone wearing clothes either sir or ma'am, and if people were standing in line, Samantha let everyone else go first before she walked through the door or spoke to the teller at the bank.

Samantha sat on the couch and went through her checklist again: their bags were packed, the presents were wrapped, the windows were locked and so on... there was nothing to do but wait. Ten minutes later she heard Arthur climbing the metal stairs, it was pouring down rain, a typical soggy Louisiana December. She met him at the door with a roll of paper towels in her hand; between Arthur and his nervous dog she used a lot of paper towels.

Arthur stepped inside but stayed on the rug, his hair was flat against his head; his shirt clung to his wiry frame.

Samantha put her hands out. "Don't move! You're soaking wet... just take off your clothes right there!"

"Are you propositioning me?" Arthur chuckled as he stripped off the tee shirt.

"I just wish I could teach you how to use an umbrella." Samantha put the soaked shirt in a clothesbasket and pointed to his pants. "Come on, come on... we gotta hurry, I've got your clothes laid out... everything's packed. Just hurry up!"

Ten minutes later they were on the road, Arthur drove north, heading toward the interstate. Samantha turned off the radio. "Your mom called just before you got home. I don't know; she always makes me a nervous wreck."

"Heck, don't be nervous; mom really likes you." Arthur grinned. "Except for the criminal record you're like the normal child she always wanted."

"Um..." Samantha said. "I guess that's a compliment, uh... you know, she wants us to go to church with her tonight. She said Tee's going to be there too."

"Really... hmm... I haven't been to her church in a long time" Arthur shrugged. "Well, I guess I do owe her one. Did she um... happen to mention the Christmas play in 1983? I think she's still a little touchy about it; just about every year she'd tell me and Tee how we ruined that play and embarrassed her in front of everyone."

"No, didn't say anything... what did you do?"

"See when I was growing up," Arthur began. "My dad wasn't all that religious, and that really annoyed mom. She'd say that 'at least her kids weren't going to grow up like heathens!' So every Sunday she made sure that me and my sister went to church..."

---------

It was time for the annual Christmas pageant at the Plainsboro Methodist Church. A nine-year-old Tee was dressed as the Virgin Mary with a swaddled baby doll in her lap; Arthur was a thirteen-year-old wise man in a robe and long white beard. His mom and dad sat in the front row. They looked so proud of their kids... at first.

Arthur had been determined to make 1983 the last year that his mother forced him to act in a church play. That year, Arthur and Tee added a little intrigue to the birth of the Savior, changing the plot to make it into a sort of a who done it mystery.

The wise man backed up against the wall where he could reach the light switch, the stage went dark, the Virgin Mary screamed out dramatically. The lights came on again, the audience murmured and poor Joseph sat with his mouth open as a series of surprising developments occurred around the manger.

"What's going on here?" The wise man pointed dramatically. "The baby Jesus is... Gone!"

"Oh no!" Tee jumped up shaking her little fist at the audience. "Somebody stole my baby!"

The wise man stepped out to center stage. "Don't worry, Virgin Mary, I'll find your baby..." Then the wise man noticed something on the floor. "What's this... could it be a clue?"

Most of the audience sat in awkward silence as their mother scrambled up on stage to put a stop to it. Arthur's uncle slumped down in the second row nearly asphyxiating from inappropriate laughter.

'Teresa Anne Liggett!' Their mother whispered loud enough to make an echo. 'You go find the baby Jesus Right This Minute!'

Meanwhile, the wise man was slowly backing off stage; he badly wanted to go tend to the camels, guard the frankincense or... something.

"Arthur!" His mother trapped him in the corner, wagging a finger in his face; the lecture was too frantic to make out the words. At one point she glanced at the audience. Then, not wanting to make a scene, she grabbed hold of the Virgin Mary's arm and the wise man's ear and dragged them both back stage.

After a very tense five-minute absence, the wise man shuffled back on stage again; his face was bright red and he kept his eyes on the floor. The Virgin Mary followed him, sniffling, with tears running down her face; she carried the baby Jesus upside down by a leg.

Virtually everyone in the church heard her mother whisper from offstage: "You're dragging Jesus... you hold him right!" Tee sat in her chair, put the doll in her lap and cried.

Then the play restarted. The first wise man gave gold, the second gave myrrh, and then it was time for Arthur to do his line. He started to step forward and present his gift to the Savior but there was a problem. His gift was gone.

He didn't see his jar of Frankincense anywhere but he did see his mother glaring at him from just off stage. Arthur felt everyone in the audience looking at him, expecting him to give a gift to Jesus. He slipped a hand inside his robe to see if there was something in his pocket. Arthur walked out to center stage and knelt down in front of Joseph and Mary.

"From the Far East I brought this... um" Arthur put out his hands and cringed. "This gift of... um grape flavored Nerds... for the Savior to enjoy."

There was more inappropriate laughter from the audience then. Tee was still mad at Arthur for getting her in trouble; she grabbed the box of Nerds and threw it at him but it flew over the wise man's head and into the audience. Tee sat there pouting with her arms crossed. At that point the minister's wife decided to cut their losses and close the curtains.

It was raining and cold that night so his father went out to warm up the car. Arthur and Tee wanted to get away from their mom so they went with him. They climbed in the backseat and waited. Their dad wasn't easy to read; it was really hard to tell when he was angry.

He got the heater going, turned on the defrost and adjusted the rear view mirror. "So Arthur," his father said. "I don't recall reading anything in the New Testament about grape flavored Nerds."

"Yeah," Arthur admitted, "it was kind of a surprise for me too."

His dad smiled slightly as his mother reached the car. She was already in mid-sentence: "...been so humiliated in ALL MY LIFE!"

---------

"So..." Arthur said as he finished his flashback. "That was the last church play I was ever in. Heck that was... um almost thirteen years ago." He decided to top off his gas tank before taking the interstate; there was a Shell station ahead.

"Well," Samantha said. "Maybe your mom will have her revenge."

"Huh?" Arthur concentrated on turned left into the parking lot.

"You know, like... poetic justice. She could watch you raise a kid that's just as much trouble as you were."

Arthur's smile faded. "You don't... um... you... uh..."

Samantha nodded and smiled mischievously.

Arthur pressed the brake to avoid a pedestrian homicide. Arthur yelled out: "Woohoo!" And then he reached over to kiss Samantha enthusiastically on the cheek and nose as she squirmed and people watched.

Arthur threw open the door. "Hey... uh alright; hold on! I'll got get some stuff to celebrate. Want some wine?" 

Samantha said: "I'm pregnant; I can't drink alcohol."

"Really? I did not know that. Twinkies, how bout some juice?"

Arthur took off briefly then he thought of something and stuck his head back in the truck. "Hey, why don't we name her Zelda?"

"Zelda," Samantha laughed. "We don't even know that it's a girl! And no, we're not naming our firstborn after a videogame!"

Arthur took a sharp breath: "Oh man, we're gonna have to take care of a baby; do you know anything about that?" Arthur turned to examine the convenience store. "Hmm... maybe they have some books or something."

"Arthur, I'm not using a parenting guide from a gas station."

Arthur continued unabated: "And then, just think... you're gonna have to teach her how to walk and talk and read and do stuff and then later on you'll have to give her the talk about boys and sex and... and oh man... then you'll have to tell her about how her parents used to be convicted criminals and..."

Samantha interrupted: "I have to tell her?"

"Well sure," Arthur said. "You don't want to keep secrets from poor little Zelda do you?"

Samantha shook her head. "We're not naming her Zelda."

Arthur filled up the tank of his white Ford Bronco. He had bought it for just eight hundred dollars since it had been wrecked by its previous owner. It had a replacement blue driver side door and fender; four new tires, and a decent motor. It was good enough for a young couple restarting their lives again in America.

Arthur paid for the fuel and bought some snacks for the trip: spicy smelly beef jerky for him and a pack of Twinkies and apple juice for Samantha. He put his wipers on high and turned north toward I-10. Samantha found a song she liked on the radio and cranked up the volume. Singing loudly, she asked that most important of all funk-related questions:

"Won't- you- take- me- to... Funkytown?"

"Won't- you- take- me- to... Funkytown?"

Such a silly question; Arthur thought. What right-minded twenty-seven year old escaped fugitive spy wouldn't want to go to Funkytown?