Friday, April 23, 2010



Relieved: A Fictional Blog

Scene Nineteen of the Serialization of “The Walls Have Ears: A Novel of America”

By F. Scott Sinclair

Warning: If you are easily shocked with regard to
contrary points of view, conspiracy theories, offensive
language, political correctness, sex, or anything else
that may offend your sensibilities or lack of open-mindedness,
or if you're a minor (but by no means limited to the
aforementioned), please do not read this novel. It's not
for you...

Note: This is a work of fiction. The events described
here are imaginary: the settings, events and characters
are fictitious, and/or are the product of the author's
imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual events or locales or persons (living or dead)
is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2007 by F. Scott Sinclair. All Rights Reserved.

Relieved: A Fictional Blog

Installment Nineteen

Renegade Commander Fredricks

Seattle was its usual overcast self. The monorail
chugged along its ancient concrete railing, shifting
from side to side-- once upon a time being the
pride of the Northwest-- negotiated a sharp curve.
When I bent down to look out of the huge passenger
window of the monorail car, I saw Denny Way and
the new breed of hotels that drained into its path.
As the plastic wrist straps swayed to the rhythm of
the monorail's fuselage, the stainless steel railing
sagged trying to hold my faux Secret Service agents
and I upright in the process. If this passenger railing
had been a wing of a 747, it surely would have broken
in two. We bobbed around like a squadron of robins
perched on a high voltage power line during a rainstorm.
Our bodies bounced off one another as the main terminal
came into view. Without notice, the overcrowded car
abruptly braked, pushing all of us forwarded a step or two.

I quipped, “Hey, Mark, it’s not every day you get to
ride the monorail, huh?”

With a whimsical expression, he said, “It may not be
Disneyland, but it beats where we’ve been the last coupla

“A prison cell… You got a point there, I’m afraid. And all the
better reason we’ve got to pull this caper off without a hitch.”

He nodded and poked his head around an older gentlemen's
head that was blocking our view of the main terminal which
rushed into view.

As the monorail stopped, the hydraulic doors made their
diesel brake sound, and then flipped open automatically.
“It’s showtime…!”

The old man ahead of us remarked, “Showtime…?
What’s playing?”

Christ, I thought the guy was deaf. “Just an expression,
sir. This is our first visit to the big city. Sorry…”

With his rumpled hat atop his bald head, and a bottle
of wine in a paper bag, the old guy says, “That’s alright,
sonny. Have a good day.”

“That we will, sir,” I said, happy to get him off our back.

As we disembarked the car, I felt for the papers I’d been
faxed from D.C. Confident that I’d located them, I directed
my faux Secret Service detail towards the base of the Space
Needle. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I walked down a path where I saw a detail of Secret Service
agents fencing off the entrance to the Space Needle’s main
elevator. The crowd mingled about at a safe distance. I pushed
through the clusters of onlookers, and finally broke free of a
crowd of bystanders. As I approached the Secret Service
detail, I heard someone bark something.

“Halt…! That’s far enough, mister. Where do you think
you’re going? This is a restricted area, can’t you tell?”

I reached for my commission and badge.

“Hold it…! Don’t move!”

With a submachine gun pointed at my chest, I froze.

“What’s in the pocket?”

“My Secret Service commission and badge.”

Surprised, the agent said, “Let’s see… Slowly, my friend.
Can’t be too cautious, now can we?”

I complied, pulling the leather case that housed my
badge from its resting place. I slowly handed my I.D.
over to the paranoid bastard.

He had his partner keep an eye on me as he thoroughly
examined my commission and badge, and finally said,
“Welcome aboard, my friend.”

A bit irritated, I quipped, “Yeah, you mentioned that

Taken aback, the agent asks, “Mentioned what?”

“That we’re friends, so to speak.”

“Sorry for the excessive caution, but there’s been some
threats received against Judge Marsh’s life.”

“And how about his future boss, former Senator Hampton?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he says, “That’s old hat. He’s
got his own detail. Besides, he’s had his hat thrown
in the presidential race for sometime now. But this is the
old man’s first day. And we’re going to make sure he’s
safe and sound.”

“So you’re the detail assigned to protect, Judge Marsh?”

Looking both ways, which I thought seemed like an odd
paranoid gesture, he said, “Nobody knows who’s on this
detail. So I can’t help you any more.”

I smiled and said, “That’s good…”

Caught off guard, the nameless agent says, “Why’s that…?”

“Because I’m relieving you of your duties.”

“You’re what…? But I have my orders.”

Seeing the blank look on his face, I said softly, “They’ve
been changed. Here. Have a look,” as I handed him the
document signed by his boss.

Astonished, he wouldn’t budge. “Wait a minute.”

He walked over toward a group of evergreen trees,
out of earshot, that were lining the walkway with
their perpetual green foliage standing upright with
pride. A row of forever vigilant sentinels standing

Exhibiting his propensity for paranoia, he removed
the cell phone from its holster below his bulletproof
vest. He turned away from my glance and placed the
phone to his ear. Moments later he was animated, his
left arm flailed in the wind. His teeth were clinched
as his head thrashed from side to side as the conversation
became intense. I glanced at my troops and winked. As
I turned my head in his direction, he was standing in
front of me.

“Fuck it…!” he said, “The whole damn pile of shit is
yours, partner. Good luck.”

“Thanks. I think I'm going to need it.”

His shoulders slumped, and he extended his hand, and
says, “The name’s, Slater. Marvin Slater.”

Not wanting to offend or disrupt the operation, I gladly
shook his hand, and gave him my condolences for
having to relieve him of his assigned duty. I knew he’d
trained long hours for this assignment, so I could identify
with his disappointment. That much my former career
in law enforcement had taught me before my incarceration
for trying to defend the neocon Establishment. But, even so,
I've not lost my zeal for protecting the Establishment. Nobody
likes others to tread on their turf. But things happen...
Where have I heard that expression before? Never mind.

But agent Slater accepted his fate like a man, and the
change of the guard took place despite his misgivings.

And now there was only one thing left to do, and that
was to wait… And wait, we did…for our target: Judge Marsh.




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