Title: Lost Luggage and Lost Souls
Author: Nemo the Everbeing
Rating:
oOo oOo Chapter 4 oOo oOo
Thomson felt like he'd had his ass thrown into the twilight zone. They were in a hostage situation, and he was helpless as a kid. The grand total of their martial capabilities lay in the hands of a geriatric biker, the mother and her two kids were a liability, the Goth girl was just someone else taking up space, and the ticket-kid was still recovering from a disappearing gunshot wound. Their only hope was alien and his crazy human girlfriend, and those two had proved just as useless as anyone else.
And Jimenez was dead.
When he let himself think about her, he felt sick, shaky, and lost. Thomson had eight years on the force and he'd never lost a partner. Maybe it was working for the DMPD instead of some high-risk job like the LAPD or NYPD, but it was a rare and shocking thing to have an officer go down in the line of duty in Des Moines.
Some petty voice in his head was furious with her for getting into a firefight with five armed men. The rational part of him got that she was protecting and serving, doing what she promised to do, what he promised to do but had been too smart or too piss-scared or just too stunned by her actions to do. He wanted to scream at her (as though she'd hear him, wherever she went) that some things couldn't be saved or protected or helped, and getting killed didn't solve anything. Didn't make the situation any better. Didn't save the alien's girl. It just made her dead.
The fuckers who'd done it were coming toward them with zip-ties in their hands. One of them grabbed the Goth girl sitting apart from the group and hauled her along, throwing her into the chair on the far side of the Doctor's girlfriend. They tied her wrists to the arm-rests and her legs to the chair-legs. Chair-legs that were bolted to the floor and arm-rests that shared seats, so the Doctor's girlfriend got her hand tied on top of the Goth girl's. Her other hand was tied to the arm-rest and the Doctor's hand was tied on top of hers. When Ben tied her ankles, Thomson watched with a sort of detached disgust as he felt up her thighs. She closed her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth.
The Doctor laced his fingers through hers and started to stand.
"Fuck," Ben said, whipping the girl's last zip-tie on and jumping up to shove the Doctor back in his seat. "Stay down," he said.
He tied the Doctor to his chair and then tied the woman called Judy. Her older kid got her hands tied behind her back and around her mom's legs. She didn't let go of that umbrella of the Doctor's. He couldn't figure out why she still held onto something that belonged to a fucking alien. Maybe she was stupid or something. The sleeping baby on the next chair was ignored and they came over, zip-tying Mr. Ross to his chair, forcing the ticket-taker up, folding down his arm-rest and tying him to the chair in which they propped him.
Then it was Thomson's turn, and all he wanted was to make a dash for his gun before it was too late. The Doctor was staring right at him, though, and in his head he heard the little bastard's voice: 'Now is not the time, Detective.'
It was enough of a distraction that Thomson's wrists were tied down before he could react. As Ben tied his ankles to the chair-legs Thomson focused all his fear and hate on the alien among them. If he hadn't interfered, Jimenez would be alive. What the fuck gave him the right to invade Earth and get his partner killed? Every problem they had here could be boiled down to the Doctor's interference. If they got out alive, Thomson wanted to personally hand him over to the government for dissection.
Like it or not, though, everyone else had handed over the reigns of their rescue to him, and when Ben stood back to consider his handiwork, it was the Doctor who stepped up to play ball. "Perhaps we might go back to my original question," he said.
"Not before we search every single one of you." Ben nodded to his goons. "Turn out their pockets. You can keep anything good you find."
Thomson got searched. It was weird being on the receiving end. He watched the men work. One or even two of them acted as though this wasn't their first pat down. The idea that any of them could have once been cops stuck in Thomson's craw. What kind of cop shoots another cop? Of course, what kind of cop holds up a bus terminal, when you get right down to it?
Ben personally turned the Doctor's pockets out. "This may take a while," the Doctor said.
Thomson, and everyone else, watched with interest to see what came out of an alien's pockets. A magnifying glass appeared first. Then a few coins, which were inspected and discarded. Ben pocketed a folding antennaed device. Then there was a jar of glue, a bus ticket, a white paper bag of gummy candies, books, a ball of string, some glowing stones, a leather-bound book with the words "500 Year Journal" stamped on the cover, a vial of something thick and violently blue, a pin shaped like a black cat, several handkerchiefs, a deck of playing cards the likes of which Thomson had never seen and then another deck of the standard Hoyle, a yo-yo, a pocket watch confiscated over the Doctor's protests. He got a gun his face for his objections and a hard light entered his eyes. Apparently even aliens had possessions they prized more than others. Thomson caught an engraving on its cover before it disappeared into Ben's pocket: some kind of hourglass motif with swirls and stuff.
"What?" Ben asked. "Was it your dad's?"
The Doctor's eyes narrowed and he said, "It's part of my college diploma, so if you'll kindly give it back."
Ben tapped him on the side of the head with the butt of his gun, not hard enough to hurt, but remind him of its presence. "Trust me, you won't be needing it."
"He said, give it back." Thomson had to admit, she may be stone cold crazy for dating an alien who looked like a middle-aged Scotsman, but the Doctor's girlfriend had cojones for sticking so fiercely by him. It would be easy to back away, especially with the attention she'd already gotten from Ben, but every time it came down to the Doctor she'd been right there, steely eyed as Jimenez.
Of course, her dedication and love and whatever the fuck were probably going to get her just as dead as Jimenez, too. After all, life doesn't usually hand out gold stars for doing good deeds, and karma was for people who didn't get how the world worked. Karma was for people who didn't see their partner killed for saving a girl's life.
Ben turned toward the girl, but the Doctor said, "I believe you weren't done turning out my pockets, Benjamin." His voice was cool, clipped, and his eyes returned again and again to the pocket into which his watch had disappeared. Thomson wondered where he really got it and why it meant so much to him, or if he was telling the truth. Did aliens go to college the same as humans?
Ben reluctantly returned his attention to the Doctor, producing a box of chalk, several small machines Thomson couldn't identify, and a metal beetle. Finally he finished turning out the Doctor's pants pockets and everyone stared at the impossible pile of items which had been produced from those four pockets. The Doctor smirked. The real benefit of the lengthy search of the Doctor's person was that one of the other goons had searched his girlfriend. The Doctor was, in ways subtle and less-than, keeping his promise to remove her from harm's way.
"Jesus," Ben said. "How the hell did you pack all that shit into your pockets?"
"They're dimensionally transcendental," the Doctor said.
Ben might have shot the Doctor then, he seemed on that edge, but Mr. Ross let out a bellow as one of the goons took some sort of jewelry box from his pocket. He was trying to get up, and the thug had to hit him three times with the butt of his gun before he fell back. Thomson didn't know what was in the box, but he wouldn't like to be that thug if Mr. Ross got himself free.
Ben stalked off to confer with his goons, probably about the loot they'd pulled, and as he did he kicked the pile of the Doctor's things, scattering them across the floor. The Doctor's girl muttered, "Ask a stupid question . . ."
"Quiet, Ace." So that was her name, or at least a handle. Probably some street name she'd never outgrown, or it was short for Alice or something. The Doctor raised his voice. "I don't suppose, now that the formalities are out of the way, that you'd like to tell us what you've come for?"
Ben looked at his goons, but none of them had anything productive to say. Didn't really talk much at all. Hired muscle and no more. Ben was the brains of the outfit, which was a sad statement. He turned around, walked to the middle of their two rows so they flanked him on either side, and he scanned the assembled group with his eyes, taking in his prisoners. "A girl," he said.
"What, you get turned down for the formal one too many times?" Ace asked as a sullen aside. Thomson could see how she tensed every time Ben passed too close. He understood that rebellious contempt, that angry reaction to fear. Jimenez might have been the one who looked deep into motive and all that, but Thomson played the dumb cop more than he was. In fact, understanding body language and why a person might say or do a thing was key to being a decent interrogator. Thomson was as solid as they came at pulling in the confessions. Maybe not the used-car-salesman of long prison sentences, but he was by no means shabby.
Thomson wondered if the Doctor realized how unlikely it was that his girl was getting out of this situation intact. She got on Ben's bad side early on, and her bravado wasn't doing her any favors.
The Doctor's hand tightened around hers, his eyes downcast. He knew, and it scared him shitless. It was funny, but Thomson had a hard time coming to grips that this guy, alien or no, wasn't just stringing some poor girl along, but he was sticking by her just as strong as she was him. He'd nearly gotten killed at least twice just keeping her from Ben, and his concern now, that flash of naked terror in his eyes when Ben turned slowly around told a different story than an attachment of convenience or passing interest. There was devotion so utter and absolute that Thomson knew it wasn't human. It was something more; something that only existed in fairy-tales and hokey romance novels.
"Getting a stronger and stronger feeling who she might be," Ben said. He didn't pull his gun for once. He just waked right up close to Ace. She stared past him, jaw set.
"Really? Whatever gives you that impression?" the Doctor asked, voice reaching a panicky pitch and speeding along at ninety-miles-an-hour. "Are you looking for a specific girl or just any old girl, because if the former is the case, then I must tell you that Ace and I have been traveling extensively—"
"Very extensively," Ace said.
"—so whatever you think she did or want her for, she couldn't possibly have been involved."
"Who—" Ben started.
"If, however, you're looking for the latter, I can say that I've met much nicer, more accommodating ladies who wouldn't object to you and your . . . notable qualities. Which, of course, my young friend does, and I do for that matter. So, all things considered, you really couldn't be looking for Ace, now could you? Hmm?"
"That was almost smooth," Ben said. Thomson was, for once, in total agreement with the little shit. Too bad almost only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades.
"Not my finest hour, I admit," the Doctor said, eyes going wide as he realized he'd missed the mark and now Ben was fixated on Ace.
Ben nodded. "Who hired you?"
The Doctor and Ace exchanged blank looks. "Sorry?" the Doctor asked.
And the gun to the Doctor's head made its reappearance. Thomson couldn't blame the alien for getting a little blasé about the gun. There was only so much staring down the barrel of a gun a guy could do before it just lost its edge. Of course, Ben probably skipped that day in Intimidation 101.
"Who hired you to transport her back for the trial? How high up does this go?"
"I don't—"
Ben hauled off to pistol-whip the little guy again (and where had his bruise and cut gone anyway?) but the ticket-kid, of all people, blurted out, "UNIT! His ID was from some group called UNIT."
Ben looked confused and worried. So that wasn't the response he was counting on. What the hell was UNIT, anyhow, and since when did Earth start outsourcing to alien contractors? Or was he an alien? Had he lied about that? How did he explain the disappearing cut, or saving the ticket kid, or reading their minds, or having two heartbeats? No, the little bastard was an alien, but he was also employed by some Earth agency. Or was he? Thomson was lost, and it pissed him off.
"Who's The Unit, and what's their interest in this?" Ben asked.
The Doctor looked flustered. "It's UNIT, not the Unit, and it's an acronym for United Nations Intelligence Taskforce."
"The fucking UN is in on this!"
"I think you've got the wrong impression. I haven't worked for UNIT in almost two-hundred years. As for their interest, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Ben didn't believe a word of it. Maybe it was that two-century figure thrown in. "You know, that absent-minded professor act is good. You had me going there for a long time, but the machine you had, your ID, the way you've fucked up every single facet of what was supposed to be a smooth, easy job, no. You're in this deep, and even if you're a private contractor now, someone hired you to get 'Ace' here to St. Louis. So, who is it? The city? The state? The victims' families? How did they contact you and who all knows you're transporting her?"
Something like a mad gleam entered the Doctor's eyes. "Oh, there are so many people who know we're traveling together. Let me see, there's Brigadier Bambera, Brigadier-General Lethbridge-Stewart, The Master . . ."
"Colonel Millington," Ace added. "Kingpin and Mags, Captain Glitz and Mel . . ."
"Redvers fen Cooper," the Doctor said, "Nemesis, Helen A and Silas P, Josiah Samuel Smith, Thomas Sigma—"
"Theta Sigma, too," she said, smiling at him.
He returned the smile. "Oh, absolutely. And one can't forget Dorothy."
"Or the Old Girl."
He looked up at Ben. "I do believe that's it."
"Except there's hundreds more," Ace said. "We're well-known on at least six worlds."
"I don't know what kind of dumb-fuck you think I am," Ben said.
"Probably best that way," the Doctor muttered.
"But I'm being paid to do a job, and I'm getting it done one way or another."
"Are you going to kill us?" the ticket-boy asked.
"Might be," Ben said. "Everyone but 'Ace' here. Or should I call you Jessica now?"
Thomson was in the right position that he saw what Ben didn't. He saw the Goth girl flinch, her eyes widen. In the interrogation room, he'd have called that a tell, and for him, at least, a lot of the pieces of this puzzle fell into place. Ben was barking up the wrong tree, and the Doctor really was just an alien passing through. The real girl in question was that pale little thing hiding behind all the black leather and heavy makeup.
"All right," Ace said. "You call me Jessica and I'll call you Bill. This is a hell of a fun game, you ask me. Can I call you Tom later? Or Tony? How many names do you want to go through?"
Something was different about Ben. He was fixed on Ace, focused on her. He thought he had everything all sewn up, and he was going to get done what he came to do, whatever that was. For the first time since the Doctor had thrown the initial monkey into his wrench, Ben was calm and in control. Thomson's gut squirmed, and he realized that, gun or no, this was the first time he'd ever been afraid of Ben. Ben, who smiled down at Ace with a sort of placid cruelty that spoke of other jobs, other girls. Probably dead girls by now. This was Ben finally in his element.
The Doctor saw the shift maybe a second before ace did, and his eyes went from that mad, teasing gleam to wide and horrified in a heartbeat. He knew what was going to happen. Didn't even have to be telepathic to figure it out. "Ace," the Doctor gasped.
"Cut her loose," Ben said. "I'm going to have a word with Miss Moritz in the back."
Ace's eyes were as round as her boyfriend's, but she still had her chin up and her jaw set defiantly. "You, me and the bodies?" Ace asked. "Don't count on it, Toerag."
But men were already at work, already cutting Ace's zip-ties. As soon as she was free, she fought, turning with a shocking, fluid grace to slam her fist into the face of the man who had untied her. She followed that by a snapped kick under his jaw, toppling him. Her eyes glimmered with a yellow light and Thomson finally understood what she'd meant by 'mostly human.' Then, one of the others hit her between the shoulder blades with the butt of his rifle and she fell. They pinned her and dragged her, thrashing, to her feet.
"Stop!" the Doctor was shouting. "You'll hurt her!"
And, cutting through the commotion like a knife, was the one sound Thomson had prayed to hear. Police sirens screamed, drawing closer and stopping. The fucking cavalry had finally arrived, probably called down by one of the lucky ones who'd gotten out when the Doctor used his screaming pen.
Everyone stared at the door, and they heard through the woodwork, "This is the Iowa City Police. Come out with your hands up and surrender yourselves and you will not be harmed."
"Do you see?" the Doctor said, eyes burning. "All your best-laid plans are coming apart at the seams, Benjamin. You must let us go if you're to have any hope of getting out of here alive."
"Shit," Ben hissed. He pulled his knife again, and the two thugs holding Ace tightened their grips. Ben slid the blade up under her chin, forcing her head back. The other goon covered the Doctor, who stared on in helpless terror as everything he'd promised to protect that girl from started happening. "What did you tell the prosecution?" Ben asked.
"Not a clue what you're talking about." Ace faced him with a wintry expression on her face Thomson would wager she'd learned from the Doctor.
Ben nodded to his goons, and they dragged her along toward the ticket booth. Ben gave the Doctor one small smile, and then followed, knife in hand.
The Doctor shouted, "Benjamin!" but he was ignored.
Ben whispered something to Ace and she started struggling again.
"Benjamin!" the Doctor shouted again, the very picture of helpless fury. "Benjamin!"
And then the goons threw Ace into the ticket booth and Ben followed, shutting the door behind them.