I'L BE RIGHT HERE
Chapter Forty
"Your identity is your most valuable possession. Protect it."
(From: 'The Incredibles'.)
-x0x-
Now…
Carlton Lassiter was angry. Not a red-hot, 'blast off a couple of shots at the nearest available target' kind of fury but a smouldering blend of embarrassment and indignation. Meek had escaped. More than that, he had made off with Carlton's brand new handcuffs. More than that, he had made the detective look foolish, right in front of Commander Dunlap. A reckoning was overdue and Carlton intended to collect. Meek was his - and so were those cuffs. He looked forward to taking them back…
Inching his way along the open deck, he kept a weather eye on the woman who was currently matching him step for step. Both Carlton and O'Hara were hyper-alert for any sight or sound that might indicate the return of the anonymous shooter – a task made almost impossible by the banshee wind that howled around them. Carlton's head was beginning to ache from the strain, and his arm was stinging like billy-o where a stray bullet had grazed it. O'Hara was not her usual shiny, happy self either. He knew her well enough to spot the signs of her frustration and he suspected that, even now, it had more to do with Shawn Spencer than Edgar Meek. The strength of that peculiar friendship between his partner and the so-called-psychic never failed to bewilder him. Mostly, he tried to ignore it, but Spencer was hard to ignore at the best of times, and Juliet… well, she mattered. Partners looked out for one another. "Are you okay?" he muttered, leaning closer as they headed for the prow.
"Of course. I should be asking you that question." She wrinkled her nose. "It's the first time you've spoken since we left the cabin."
Trust O'Hara to notice. "Nothing to say," Carlton replied simply. He gave a shrug that clarified the matter. I don't want to talk about it.
Juliet gave him a look of deep suspicion but switched to a different topic. "This ship is way too big. I don't see how we're going to find Meek all by ourselves. A co-ordinated search would be far more effective. Shouldn't the backup be here by now?"
"Don't need it," he growled. "We're in the middle of the ocean. There are a finite number of places to hide on this ugly tub."
"And you're going to check them all personally?"
"Damn straight."
She pursed her lips. "This isn't your fault, Carlton. He took you by surprise. It could have happened to anyone."
"Yes, but it happened to… Sweet Lady Justice!" Carlton exclaimed, as a random piece of paper wafted in front of his nose and then spun out to sea.
O'Hara stared at him, startled. Another page flew by and her eyes grew even wider. Reaching out, she snagged the piece of paper before it could follow its twin.
"Some kind of message?" Carlton said eagerly, trying to resist the urge to snatch it from her.
"I don't… I'm not quite sure." O'Hara peered at it, trying to decipher the scrawling words. "It doesn't make a whole lot of sense." Clearly, she could tell that he was itching to see for himself, because she handed it over without being asked. As he studied it carefully, two more pages drifted over their heads.
It didn't take Carlton long to reach the same conclusion. The sheet was covered in gibberish; words and figures that made perfect sense in their own right but defied interpretation when strung together in such a chaotic fashion. "Looks like my ex-wife's handwriting," he grumbled. "I never understood that either." He waved his hand dismissively and let the paper slip through his fingers. "Unimportant."
"Still, I'd like to know where they're coming from."
"Who are we – Hansel and Gretel now?" he protested – but he followed her nonetheless, all the way to the prow, where a scruffy little man knelt in the midst of a pile of notebooks, systematically ripping out all the pages and letting them fly like unwanted memories on the wind of time. Carlton smiled at his own poetical turn of phrase, while O'Hara let out a cry of recognition.
"Cal!"
The stranger looked up. For a moment, his eyes were blank. Cal, thought Lassiter. Wasn't that…? "Hey, you're the alien. Guy. Guy-who-thinks-he's-an-alien." Oh yes, very sensitive, he scolded himself, as Cal blinked and frowned.
O'Hara approached and bent down in front of the man, reaching out to still the frantic tearing motion of his hands. "Don't you remember me, Cal? It's Juliet O'Hara. From the beach – and the Psych office, yesterday."
Cal's eyes cleared. "You're Shawn's partner."
"No!" O'Hara gave a giddy laugh. "That's Gus. I'm Shawn's friend – remember?" She glanced back at Carlton, who stepped up to lend his support. Cal shrank back as the tall detective towered over him.
"Who's this?"
"Oh – this is my partner. Detective Carlton Lassiter. He's a good guy," she insisted. Carlton couldn't really see the need for that particular justification of his character, but Cal seemed to listen, and settled back down again.
"I'm confused," the 'alien' admitted. His fingers itched to be tearing again, but Juliet held them gently.
"You and me both. What happened here, Cal? What's the matter? Did you see what happened to Shawn?"
He shook his head with growing agitation. "Too many questions."
"Then I have just one," said Carlton, cutting through the man's panic with his most commanding tone. "Where is Edgar Meek?"
"Don't know, don't care." Cal shook his head. "Don't know, don't…"
"Okay, okay. I get the picture." Trying to appear more sympathetic, Carlton actually remembered to turn his back before announcing: "This is a waste of time."
"He's a person, Carlton. And he needs our help."
"What do you suggest we do with him? Drag him along on our manhunt?"
"Well, now you're just being ridiculous." Juliet's hand tightened reflexively and Cal tried to pull away.
"I'm not going anywhere," he told her solemnly. "Not until I've finished."
"But what are you doing?" She reached out with her other hand and was about to pick up a notebook when he stiffened. "What are these, Cal? And why are you tearing them… sorry, that's too many questions again."
"I have to destroy them." Cal flushed. "Yolanta couldn't do it. I'm the only one who can."
"Yolanta. You mean Captain Bale." Carlton raised an eyebrow. "Were you there when Meek…?" There was no need to continue. One look at Cal's traumatised expression was enough to give him his answer.
"And Shawn? Did you see…?" Juliet insisted.
"Everyone dies in the end," Cal told her sadly. "Red for the captain and blue for your friend."
"Cal, they're not dead. It's the truth; I promise. And Meek… we're going to catch him. It's just a matter of time. You don't have to be afraid anymore."
Cal shook his head so violently that they both caught a whiff of his acrid perspiration. "When the sky has eaten my words, the fear will end."
"Let him do it," Carlton sighed. "What choice do we have?" He recognised the driven look on Cal's face. He had seen it many times before in his career, on many different faces, and knew how futile it would be – not to mention cruel – to drag the man away from what he perceived to be his vital mission. "We'll circle back and check on him later."
O'Hara shot him a desperate look, but he could tell that she was wavering. She let go of Cal's hand and stood up. At once, the man went back to ripping out pages, one at a time, and releasing them into the air.
"He'll be fine. I'm certain of it," Carlton reassured her, though he really couldn't promise any such thing. Much as he hated to admit it, the thought of Meek lurking somewhere nearby (and laughing at their ineptitude) was slowly driving him insane. He needed to be on the move. He needed to resolve this.
Juliet opened her mouth to reply – but Carlton held up a cautionary finger. Hidden for a time behind the wailing of the wind and the relentless pounding of the ocean, a new sound had finally caught his attention.
Footsteps, moving swiftly towards them.
Please, he thought, let it be Meek…