Chapter 10: People Are Dying, Part 1

Joe sat at his desk reviewing files. With his rank he could have had any office in the building, but it suited his sense of correctness to work out of the tiny basement office. He had his desk and swivel seat on rollers, a straight-backed chair for a visitor.

A picture on one wall of a beautiful young woman smiling and holding a baby - his wife and son, both long dead hung on the wall. It embarrassed his visitors, so he kept it visible. He wanted to remind the people who came to his office young people and even babies were a part of their world too. A reality all too many retirees forgot, as if the moment they retired and were given their responsibilities, they forgot their previous life.

Joe understood the life of young people was hard and getting harder. What he couldn't grasp was people trying to erase that entire segment of their lives. There was no shame in being young. You had to be young to get old.

Joe signed the last piece of paperwork from the fiasco at the club. The sax player would be under surveillance for a while. The owner had survived the shock, but had been left with permanent tremors in her hands. The nurses at the Home said they had her on a suicide watch. He didn't like using the cane, but not using it was a worse alternative. The Two Cent Council, as Joe thought of his superiors, didn't like messes. Guns were messy, and a danger to bystanders. The cane was quick and affected only one person at a time. Healthy people usually survived the experience.

He'd hardly picked up the file on the murders he was investigating when a double knock on the door signaled Joe's secretary was showing someone into his office. He looked up to watch as she pushed the door open and ushered in the visitor. Maggie always acted as if his rinky-dink little office was a corner penthouse suite. He liked the way she flashed her teeth in a bright smile. They were implants, but the very best. Her silver hair was pulled back in a loose bun and contrasted nicely with the forest green suit tailored to make the best of her other assets.

As the visitor, who had to be at least a centenarian, stalked into the cramped office, Maggie's fingers moved in sign language. Deputy Chancellor George Mulholland, in line for a Council position if he could keep his nose clean long enough.

"I am told you are the man to help me." The visitor boomed as Maggie discreetly closed the door.

"And what am I helping you with?" Joe waved D.C. Mulholland to the other chair.

"There has been a bit of trouble at the Mid-West Youth Reserve. It seems the Principal was involved in an unfortunate relationship with one of the boys. The Principal died suddenly, and the boy is missing. It is presumed he has run away. There is no sign of him, which suggests he may have had help. Runners are usually caught within a couple of days."

"People die all the time. Young people run away quite frequently. Why do you need me on this case?"

"You know who I am?"

"Yes. Does it have a bearing on this situation?"

"Unfortunately it does." The visiting Deputy Chancellor looked around his eyes lighting on the photo of woman and child. "Yours?" At Joe's nod he continued. "Then you might understand. The boy who has run away is named Trey Gauche, my son. Others have assumed I broke the law to ensure a suitable transplant match if needed, but the truth is I wanted to have a child who shared my intellect. My daughters are a delight, but they are not brilliant."

"And Trey is?"

"I suspect he is smarter than I am, but he's never been tested. My wife found out about him and made sure certain people made all the wrong assumptions. Now they think they have Deputy Chancellor in their pockets because they hold my organ reserve."

The last words were spoken with such distaste Joe knew, whatever other truths were being stretched, the Deputy Chancellor did not view his late-comer son as a living organ bank.

"She has everything she ever wanted except my social connections. My... handlers are not ones to give unnecessary attention to a woman who no longer has any power to help them."

Joe thought briefly of the woman at the club, trying desperately to control her life. He pitied both of them.

"So, what do you want from me?"

"I would like you to investigate, and find the boy. Make sure he doesn't fall into the hands of the people who think they own me. I am about to oppose some reforms they are pushing me to support. I don't want them to hurt Trey to get to me."

"You would change your position if they had Trey?" asked Joe.

"No, but they don't know that, and neither does the boy." Mulholland stood up. "Find him and keep him safe.'

"What issue are you opposing?"

"Would it make a difference if I told you?" When Joe shook his head he said, "Then you don't need to know." He let himself out. Maggie slipped into the office and perched on the chair.

"He liked your picture."

"He did at that."

"So, you are heading west?"

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" Joe looked up at the picture and shrugged. "Make sure the new owner of the club treats the sax player right."

"I will do that, Joe. Be careful. I don't trust people who tell that much truth without being asked. There's something this Mulholland is hiding."

"You too? I'd like to meet this kid who scares him so badly."

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