Session3
"Oh Jet, are you guys in trouble." From the other side of the bars, Donnelly shook his head.
Hours had passed since his last visit, and by now each of the Bebop crew had been paraded out, processed, and returned to holding. Their clothing had been confiscated, even Ein's bow tie, and they'd been given bright orange jumpsuits. It had not escaped Jet's attention that Spike's session had taken longer. When his partner returned and he inquired, the guard answered for him, "We can't have a mug shot of him flipping the bird." Spike had only smirked, his complexion revealing he was still not feeling the greatest. He'd situated himself in the corner and promptly fallen asleep. Ed had hardly been bothered by this mess and was currently holding a snoozing Ein in her lap as she napped against Spike.
Jet envied them as he glanced at Faye, a scowl on her face ever since she had returned to the cell. She sat hugging herself at the other end of the bench, one comment away from going full nuclear.
"Talk to me, Donnelly. How bad is it?"
He pushed his hat back. "If I don't summarize it, I'll miss my break. So here it is. First there is Faye over there, who has a number of illegal gambling charges as well as unpaid debts. We'll just say it amounts to grand larceny."
Jet eyed her. So she hadn't used the influx of cash to clear her debt. Typical.
"More critical is your partner Spike, they got him an a whole barrage of charges including murder and arson. The most recent is breaking out of prison."
Jet shook his head. "That won't stick. He was released."
Donnelly pointed to Ed. "Yeah, by Radical Edward. They found the electronic trail when a tip prompted them to look. Who, by the way, is wanted for a number of hacking cases throughout the system, including government servers. Sorry Jet, but they got her hallmarks all over it."
"You have to understand—"
He shook his head. "I never thought I would see this. But what it all entails is that you, the Black Dog, aided a felon in escaping prison and harbored not one, but three fugitives of the law on your ship."
His jaw hung slack. "But … but … Donnelly. They were bounty hunters, registered like me. Well, not the kid, yet. She was too young. But still!"
"How do you think they held those registrations if not for that kid? You know she did it. Even if you didn't ask her to directly, you know she was the one to bury the records."
Pounding his fist against the bars, Jet shouted, "This is all a bunch of bullshit! Besides, look what Spike and Faye did not long ago on the cruise ship. Think of all the bounties we've brought in over the years. There has to be something we can do to clear this up."
Donnelly raised a shoulder and let it fall. "You're up against the line-up wall. The only chance you have is the courtroom. As I hear it, your assigned defense attorney just arrived and is getting situated to start the interviews. All I can say is, good luck. I gotta get back to work before they miss me."
Jet rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, I guess." He flopped down on the bench and sighed. "Quite a mess we're in this time."
The sound of the door unlocking caught his attention. A guard stood there. "Ms. Valentine. Come with me please."
She stood and sauntered across the cell. "Anything to be out of this place. At least someone finally cleaned up the damn floor." Her voice dwindled as they passed down the corridor toward the interrogation room.
Jet leaned back. Spike's eye cracked open. "So uhhh, Spike, how does this part go?"
He shrugged, and glanced down to find the kid and dog trapping his side. "Wouldn't know. Remember I woke up on Pluto. They sorta skipped this part."
"That's right."
"Besides, wouldn't you know more about this?"
Jet mused for a moment, his shoulders falling. "Not much. Save one thing. The only way out of this is to be honest."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that, pard?"
"Much as I can be. At least with the lawyer."
"Alright."
Faye sat at the metal table, her arms across her chest. A firm scowl on her face. On the other side a nervous looking man who seemed to be suffering from cold sweats attempted to flip through the files as he visibly fought his shaking hands.
Their lawyer, Mr. Everett Shimmelsby.
He hadn't said a word to her and yet he had already sweated through his ill-fitted suit jacket.
"Are we going to get this started? I'd like to get out of this ridiculous jumpsuit and back into something more befitting a woman of my refinement."
He glanced up and adjusted his glasses as he swallowed. "Well, umm, you see Ms. Valentine, I just am trying to sort out the details of your charges. It uhh seems that there are a number of individuals who have lost money to you."
She studied her fingernails and eyed him sideways. "Yes. But it's not as though I held a gun to their heads."
He glanced at the screen and then back up with a bead of sweat down his brow. "Mr. Ashbury?"
She smiled and laughed. "Oh wait, yes, him. Well that was a special circumstance. He did ask for it."
"If you don't mind my asking … how?"
She leaned forward over the table, gaining height on the weasly little man who sunk down before her. "He failed to honor his bet, so I gave him a little persuasion to complete our transaction. It was pure business."
Shimmelsby sunk further in the chair as he listed five more names.
Faye's hackles rose. "Do you really want to know what I think of men?"
Color drained straight out of Shimmelsby.
Jet sat down at the metal table. On the other side Everett Shimmelsby looked as though he'd been in a cage match with a tigress. The poor men was disheveled, sweated clear through his clothing, tie pulled down past the collarbone. His eyes wide as he panted each breath.
"I ehhh, Jet Black, I presume?"
Jet nodded and forced a smile. This man was on their side.
"The captain of the Bebop and a retired ISSP detective." He ran through the files and glanced up. "So what compelled you to make and harbor fugitives?"
Harder than he wanted, Jet planted his fists on the table. "My crew are not fugitives!"
Shimmelsby hid behind his chair, peering through the slats. "They have warrants. There are cases, open ones … "
"An open case has not gone to trial! They are innocent. Besides this system is so corrupt. Anyone can file an arrest warrant with enough money."
"But sir, you yourself walked into prison posing as an active officer and aided in the illegal release of a prisoner."
Jet's metal fist dented the table. "A prisoner who never stood trial!"
Shimmelsby whimpered, hands over his head. "And you used a child to hack and purge the records … are these the acts of an honorable man?"
"I'll show you an honorable man!"
Ed sat in the chair, swaying back and forth with a smile on her face. On the other side Shimmelsby sat rigid, only his eyes following her.
"Radical Edward?"
"Yes." She pipped up. "You can call me Ed."
"Ok … Ed. I wasn't expecting … " Shimmelsby stopped and cocked his head. He didn't finish the sentence. "Ed, you like computers."
"Uh huh. Ed is a net-diver and also a hacker. Ed is very good at what she does and that's how we nab the bad guys."
"Bad guys?"
"Yessss! When Jet wants to find someone for money he asks Ed to look for them. Ed finds them and then we go pew pew, and the nasty people surrender. We bring them in for money so Faye can feed the ponies and Spike can pay for all the stuff he broke."
Shimmelsby flinched at Jet's name. "Did they … did they ever ask you to change things? You know, records and stuff?"
Ed giggled. "All the time. And sometimes Ed just does it for fun. Like this one time … "
His eyes widened as the crazy train ran off the rails.
Spike leaned back in the chair, a brooding glare in his eyes. He was so done with this shit and it hadn't even started yet. His head still ached from the sedative and the last he wanted to do was talk to some lackey in a cheap suit. Spike's nose wrinkled, he could smell the stink of fear on this guy as he leaned back, increasing the distance between them as he scrolled though the file on the screen. Spike had to wonder how close the guy was to bolting for the walls.
Still, he did nothing more than sit there and glare. It brought back memories of his days as an interrogator.
"Mr. … uh … Mr. Spiegel." Shimmelsby began a few octaves higher in register. "I'm your … your case lawyer. And let's just get started shall we?"
Spike took a deep breath.
At that one motion, Shimmelsby flinched. He realized it and tried to cover it with a laugh. "It's been a long day, and … "
"It sure has." Spike let the gravel enter his voice. The effect stirred up an even wilder reaction in the lawyer. More sweat soaked him.
Shimmelsby loosened his necktie, pulling the knot all the way undone in the process and swallowed, glancing at the locked door. "Mr. Spiegel … the charges say you were once an enforcer for the Red Dragons. I'll need to know details, anything you can tell me will help me lay out the case."
Well, Jet said to be honest … Spike leaned forward, "Hope you didn't eat breakfast, slick."
Jet leaned against the bars. It had been quite some time since they had taken Spike down for the questioning. On this side of the bars he could not compel any response from his once co-workers. No surprise.
About to push off from the bars and go sit down, a door opened down the corridor. The shuffle of feet. Two guards carried Shimmelsby, the lawyer pale and out cold, dripping with sweat. The door buzzed and they passed through.
A few minutes later another guard walked Spike into the cell and scowled at him, locking the door behind.
Nonchalantly, Spike took his place back in the corner of the bench, eyes half-lidded.
Jet blinked, trying to reconcile what could have happened. "Spike … you didn't … "
"What?"
"Lay a hand on him!"
He smirked. "Of course not, I'm not that stupid."
Even Faye was glancing his way. "Why did the guy come out of there staring at his own eyelids?"
He shrugged, settling his hands behind his head. "Beats me. I only did what Jet told us."
Everyone was silent, staring at Spike.
He closed his eyes. "I was completely honest."
Jet threw his head back, slapping his forehead. "Oh shit!"
See You Space Cowboy
