Dr. Gregory Anderson's Home - Pine Road, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 10:05 PM - Wednesday, July 16th, 1969
"Remy Leblanc, huh?" said Yeager as he read the driver's license. "You're a long way from home." He examined the car registration, then handed both back to Remy, frowning at him. "If there's anything I hate more than being lied to, it's being lied to repeatedly. I know a stakeout when I see one. Now tell me what you're doing out here at this hour, or we're going to run you in." He turned to the passenger. "And just who the hell are you?"
"Markush Fletcher, shir," he said, slurring his words.
Remy throws up his hands in exasperation, "Alright officers, We were trying to score some pot. We overheard some drunk frat boy at de bar talkin' bout some good shit he got round here. We was waitin' round to see if he would show up. We didna mean any harm but I was to scared to admit it."
"I don't know, All I was told was some short Mexican deals from dis street. De boy said he be out here after ten o clock." Remy tells the officers. At the mention of them being at the wrong house Remy gives them a puzzled look, "Ain't nobody said anyting bout no house. We was told de boy work dis street and dat was all."
"A short Mexican?" said Yeager with a skeptical look at Remy. "In this posh neighborhood? He'd stick out like the ding-dong of a teen boy looking at Playboy. Either you're lying to me, or someone else lied to you. Hold on a minute. Let me check in with HQ." He jogged back to the Mustang, opened the door, and picked up the radio.
Bill watched Remy carefully, his eyes tracking the man's movements, making sure he doesn't trying anything.
OOC,Any sign that either driver or passenger are carrying a weapon?
[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2442816/]Is Remy packing heat? Spot hidden roll. (1d100=19)[/url] Yup - made it!
Remy Leblanc,Do you have your handgun on you? If so, roll Conceal.
Bill Johns,[b]Remy[/b] and [b]Markus[/b] both did not appear to be carrying a weapon, but he wouldn't be able to know for sure without frisking them.
Yeager spoke on the radio.
Lieutenant John Yeager,"[b]O'Hara[/b]?" said [b]John[/b]. "It's [b]Lieutenant Yeager[/b]. You got anything on those plates?"
"There's nothing on them locally," replied the detective on the other end.
"I've got the driver's name from his license: [b]Remy Leblanc[/b]. See if he's wanted for anything, particularly anything drug-related. The passenger gave his name as [b]Markus Fletcher[/b]. It might be fake, but check it anyway. He's a Brit." [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2443045/]He paused in thought[/url]. "Run a check on both of them through NCIC too, while you're at it. Let's put those newfangled computers to use. Maybe [b]Mr. Leblanc[/b] has warrants outstanding back in Louisiana. Would explain why he's so far from home."
"Will do, Boss. The NCIC checks will take some time, so there probably won't be any results until morning."
Remy stood patiently while the officers did their thing, "Its true dis be a pretty nice neighborhood but now a days you never know where dey gonna be dealin' you know. We didna mean to interrupt what ever it is you be doin' here, and we'll gladly go on our way if dat would be easier for you."
Bill gave a short, sharp laugh. "You're telling me you're out here to deal and you just expect us to let you roll on out of here?" He nodded over in the direction of Yeager. "When he comes back, we'll see what he wants to do with you."
Lieutenant John Yeager,[b]Yeager[/b] waited for a couple of minutes before [b]O'Hara[/b] got back to him. "Sir, there's no local record on either of them," he said. "Not so much as an outstanding parking ticket."
"I know these two clowns have something to hide," said [b]Yeager[/b]. "We've got enough to hold them overnight, and then we'll get some answers. Keep up the good work, [b]O'Hara[/b]. I'll get back to you."
John Yeager got out of the Mustang and returned to Bill, Remy, and Markus. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you two downtown for questioning," he told the two men from the pickup truck. "You can wait in the back of my car while we conduct our business, and then we'll drive you back to HQ. Sergeant, do you think you can handle the interview by yourself? Or would you rather keep an eye on these two?"
On the outside Remy remains quiet and does what he's told, On the inside though his mind is racing trying to find a way out of their current predicament.
"Oh, I could lock them up right now," said Yeager to Jerome. "I'm hoping they''ll come clean with me about what they're really up to, and then it won't be necessary." He ushered Remy and Markus over to the Mustang and opened the back door for them. The two men got in, and then Yeager got into the driver's seat, turning his head back. "Got anything you'd like to get off your chests?"
Bill walked up the short path to the front door of Dr. Anderson's house. He could still see a light on in one of the windows. The door had a fancy-looking brass knocker, as well as a more modern electric doorbell.
Bill Johns,While [b]Bill[/b] had never been to this house before, he did vaguely recall [b]Dr. Gregory Anderson[/b]. During the experiment his main focus had been on [b]Mary[/b], but he had spoken to [b]Dr. Anderson[/b] some. He had also been interviewed by [b]Dr. Anderson[/b] when he had first signed up for the experiment, he remembered. There were a limited number of spots, and he had selected his volunteers carefully. He recalled a tall and confident man in his late forties, with brown hair just starting to turn gray and a full beard and glasses. [b]Anderson[/b] had been a serious man from what he could remember about him.
Bill briefly glanced through the window to see if there was anyone moving around inside before stepping up to the door and rapping smartly with the knocker.
As Bill waited at the door, he soon heard footsteps approaching. Then Dr. Gregory Anderson opened the door from within. The man was wearing a black silk robe and slippers, and he looked Bill over carefully. "Good evening, sir," he said. "Do I know you? You look familiar, but I can't place your face." He glanced over Bill's shoulder. "Ah, Mr. Padgett, there you are. And Professors Remington and Scott. Please, come inside, all of you. Do you have any news for me?"
Bill Johns,[b]Bill[/b] did sense recognition in [b]Dr. Anderson[/b]'s eyes. He realized that his younger self would have already met him, as the interview he had had when he had originally applied to participate in the experiment had been well before it. He was forty years older now, but there were some things about his features that would remain the same. However, it was highly unlikely that [b]Dr. Anderson[/b] actually knew he was the same person. [b]Bill[/b] also got the impression that [b]Dr. Anderson[/b] was deeply worried about something, but that the arrival of the others behind him had provided at least some relief to him.
Bill glanced behind him at the three men and frowned before turning back to Dr. Anderson. "I am Sgt. Bill Johns from Philadelphia Police Department, may I speak to you in private, sir?"
Handy,Sorry, I never saw your request for an Idea roll from Remy. I'm not sure if you still want it or not but it was [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2460302/]25[/url]
"May I please see some identification, Sergeant?" asked Dr. Anderson. "And Mr. Padgett and Professor Remington work with me. Anything you have to say to me, you can say to them."
Bill Johns,[b]Bill[/b] got the impression that [b]Dr. Anderson[/b] didn't doubt that he's a cop. Instead, he seemed to be asking to see his badge to buy himself a few seconds to think.
Remy Leblanc,Yes, I did still want the Idea roll.
[b]Remy[/b] realized that he was in a precarious position. He wasn't wanted for anything in Philly (yet), and the local cops were unlikely to know what he did back in Louisiana. However, given time, they could potentially check up on him and find out. He would need to get out of police custody before that happened. One way to do that would be to tell them what they want to hear, but to do so in such a way that it wouldn't incriminate him. Telling them that he came here to buy drugs had given them enough to detain him.
Bill fished out the wallet he'd found in his pocket and flashed the badge to Dr Anderson. "This is about your son, Brian. He's been arrested for drugs. Are you sure you don't want to do this somewhere private?"
Bill was starting to feel self-conscious, with everyone looking at him. He wasn't a cop, despite what the badge said, and he didn't know procedures. He was trying to remember all those re-runs of Starsky & Hutch and Kojak - though he doubted procedures figured highly in either.
Dr. Anderson's eyes widened. "So that's what happened to him," he said. "My colleagues have been helping me try to locate him, without success. I can't believe Brian would do something so foolish. Rest assured that I'll be hiring the best attorney I can find to represent him. Please, come in, Sergeant."
"Dis is all gettin' out o' hand ya'll." Remy leans back in his seat and gives a sigh of defeat, "Look here, I tell ya what you want to know, aight? Me an dis man here was at dis bar havin' seem beers and generally just mindin' our own business. Dere were dese fraternity fellas at de other end o de bar talkin' real load cause dey was pretty lit. We over heard dem mention dis professors kid dat was supposed to have dis new dope. We figured we'd just slip over here and see if it be true. We didn't say anyting cause we didn't wanna get him jammed up if it turn out not to be true." Remy looks right and the officer and finishes, "Everyting else I told you was de truth."
Yeager smiled. "At last we're getting somewhere," he said. "Tell me what else you know. Everything. What bar were you at when you heard about this, and who mentioned the professor's kid? What do you know about this new drug?"
Back at the front door of the house, Dr. Anderson stood aside from the front door. A black leather couch and a new-looking television set were visible in the living room beyond. "There's no need to wait outside," said Dr. Anderson. "You can all come in. I'll speak privately with Sergeant Johns in the study."
"It was at de Penn Tavern, I believe dat was what it was called. Dats all I really know. De kids were just a bunch of frat boys dat had loose lips. I don't tink dey really knew anyting other den de boys daddy was a professor. We were just bored and thought it be fun to check it out. Dat is really all we know, Honest." Remy stops and thinks for a second, "Oh yeah, Dey mentioned someting about an old man but by dat people dey was pretty much catatonic and I couldn't make any sense other den dat."
Jerome gets his wheelchair through the door and moves next to the black leather couch.
"I'd like to tell you about what we found out what when he have the time, but the police want to inform you officially first," he says to Dr. Anderson.
"It was just curiosity officer. I saw an advert for student medical trials then heard about the Profs son getting busted for selling some new drug and we decided to come and check it out. I don't know why Remy said we were here to buy dope." Marcus said shaking his head. "Do you know anything about this stuff? I nearly signed up for that trial but couldn't get an answer on the Prof's number. Is it dangerous?"
"We're not sure exactly what this new drug does," said Yeager, "other than knock people out and give them crazy dreams. That's one reason we're here, to ask Dr. Anderson about its effects. How would these jocks have known about this in first place, though? And what can you tell me about the experiment? My partner's going to find out straight from the horse's mouth, of course, but it helps to have another perspective."
Nancy Remington, Anthony Scott, and Bill Johns followed Jerome into the house. The living room was clean and elegant. A staircase led upstairs, and a dining room was through an archway at the back of the living room. From there a door led into the kitchen directly behind it, and another door on the right side of the dining room was open. A light was on beyond it, and it was this light that had been visible through a window from outside. "Please, make yourselves at home while I speak to Sergeant Johns," said Dr. Anderson to Jerome and the others. He nodded to Bill. "My study is this way. Will this take long?" He led the way to the door to the lit room.
"I can't be much help officer. The jocks were just guys talking in a bar. I don't even know if I would recognise them if I saw them again. I was pretty smashed earlier but being thrown in the back of a police car brought me round from that." says Markus "All I know about the experiment was that I saw an advert on the Uni notice board offering fifty dollars for taking part in sleep studies. It was only later that I heard rumours that the Prof was drugging the students. I was glad I didn't take part then. Fifty bucks is a lot of cash for a student but not enough to be messing with drugs."
"And what do you have to say for your sorry self?" Yeager asked Remy. "By your own admission you came here looking for drugs, and you're both three sheets to the wind."
Inside the house, Bill went with Dr. Anderson into the study and closed the door behind him. Nancy sat down on the couch next to Anthony Scott, while Jerome sat nearby in his wheelchair. The living room and dining room were well appointed, and it was clear that Dr. Anderson was, if not wealthy, at least comfortably well off. The TV was a color set, and a couple of framed paintings hung on the walls. One was a black and white M.C. Escher print, showing people climbing stairs that looped around. In some places they appeared to be walking on the walls or ceiling. The other, on the wall above the couch, was a reproduction of the famous Salvador Dali painting of the melting clocks and watches, The Persistence of Memory.
Jerome Padgett and Professor Anthony Scott,If you want to try to eavesdrop on the discussion in the study, roll Listen.
Bill Johns,The study was as elegant as the rest of the house that [b]Bill[/b] had seen so far. Two black leather armchairs sat on either side of a small reading table, on which a book lay open. A wine glass, nearly empty, stood next to the book. Bookshelves lined most of the walls, filled with books of various sizes. There were medical journals as well as popular fiction and books on mythology. A writing desk also sat against one wall.
"Please, have a seat, Sergeant," said [b]Dr. Anderson[/b], motioning to one of the chairs with a leisurely gesture. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"No, thank you," said [b]Bill[/b], easing himself into the comfortable chair. "I'm on duty."
"Of course." [b]Dr. Anderson[/b] sat in the other chair, crossing his legs and folding his hands on his lap. "Now, what can you tell me about [b]Brian[/b]?"
"Well I've never had any use for dope. Like I said before, We wasn't sure how true dem boys be. I figured I'd say we were buying dope so I didn't get dat boy jammed up. I was hopin' since we didn't have any drugs you'd just make us leave and no body would get in trouble. I would have felt real bad if all dis stuff turned out to be fake and we got dat boy in trouble with de police." Remy tells the cop.
"Your son was arrested following an assault in Lenny's Bar tonight. I don't know if you're aware of the bar, but it used to be... rather, it is popular with young people." Bill swallowed hard, the night's events were already seeming hazy. "When... when he was arrested, he was found to be in possession of drugs - Morpheus, I believe - drugs that he said you had developed. Is that correct?" Bill could feel perspiration starting to makes its way slowly down his spine, sticking his shirt to his back. He blinked and swallowed again. "Could... could I have that drink after all?" he croaked.
"You thought I'd just let you go?" said Yeager to Remy. "More likely you simply didn't think at all. You can't just drive off anyway, not considering how sloshed you two are."
Inside the living room, Jerome was able to hear the conversation in the study.
Jerome Padgett,You may click the spoiler buttons for [b]Bill[/b], including the one in my previous post, and read them. Only pay attention to the dialogue. You cannot pick up on the body language or see the room description without actually being in the room.
BIll Johns,"Certainly," said [b]Dr. Anderson[/b]. He rose and went over to a liquor cabinet, taking out a second glass and a bottle of wine that was about two-thirds full. "Yes, I developed Morpheus, but there's nothing illegal about it. I would very much like to have that sample back. [b]Brian[/b] did a very foolish thing and took it from my lab without permission earlier today. I didn't want the police involved, and I have no wish to press charges against my son. I sent out my colleagues to help find him before he got into trouble, but it seems they were too late. What exactly happened?" He filled the glass as he spoke, returned the bottle to the cabinet, walked back over to the chairs, handed the glass to [b]Bill[/b], and sat down again.
Bill took the glass in a trembling hand and gulped down the contents. The drink caught the back of his throat and he coughed, suddenly gasping for air. It took a moment or two before he could compose himself, and he pulled off his glasses and wiped his face before he continued.
"It's ah, difficult to explain. You see, your son phoned me at work and asked me to meet him at Lenny's Bar. I got there and he ambushed me in the john. He pulled a gun on me and accused me of ruining his life. He ah, threw a... a... Well, anyway the police came and they arrested Brian. One of the police drank the contents of a flask that Brian was carrying, that was later, at the station... ..." Bill drifted off, his mind back on the phone call. He shook his head, "Anyway, the stuff that he drank, that's the Morpheus isn't it? Morpheus – the Greek god of dreams? Tell me Professor Anderson, what are you dreaming of?”
Bill Johns,[b]Dr. Anderson[/b] [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2481493/]peered at [b]Bill[/b] intently[/url], almost seeming to look through him. "I find it very hard to believe that [b]Brian[/b] would do anything of the sort," he said. "How would he even know who you are? And you said the police came - but aren't you with the police? Are you sure you're feeling all right?" He paused a second. "Yes, that was the Morpheus that [b]Brian[/b] had. We figured out that he put it in a thermos that was missing from my lab. I'm relieved that it didn't end up in the wrong hands, at least. Your officer will be all right. He'll sleep for a while, and he may have some interesting dreams, but he'll awaken on his own about four hours after he drank it. I see you noticed the reference to Greek mythology. You're rather well-educated, but then I guess that's why you're a sergeant. I've made the study of dreams and consciousness my life's work, and Morpheus is my crowning achievement. It's still in the experimental stage right now, but it shows promise. I believe it could enable one to control one's dreams."
Bill Johns,"I was there,I saw it," muttered [b]Bill[/b] as if [b]Dr Anderson[/b] was challenging his memory of what happened. He flicked open the badge wallet he carried, running a thumb over the shield, feeling the contours, as if re-assuring himself of who he was.
He looked up again at [b]Dr Anderson[/b]. "So what dreams does this Morpheus create? Good dreams? Bad dreams? Is that why [b]Brian[/b] took it? So he could sell it to some kids so they can get high?"
Yeager gave Remy a wolfish grin. "Damn right you are," he said. "You're just lucky you weren't actually driving anywhere when I found you. Maybe cooling your heels overnight will straighten you two out."
Bill Johns,"The dreams could be good or bad," said [b]Dr. Anderson[/b], meeting [b]Bill[/b]'s gaze. "It depends on whatever the person taking it wants to dream about. I don't know why [b]Brian[/b] took it, as I haven't spoken to him today, but that's probably why he did it."
Marcus sighs "Shit happens, you got cash for bail Remy?" turning to Yaeger he asks "How much does it cost to bail yourself out of nick these days Officer" while counting through notes in his wallet.
mr handy,credit rating roll to see if I have enough money to tempt him?[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2486997/]credit rating 65% (1d100=27)[/url]
Mr Handy,"But why?" asked [b]Bill[/b], "Why do people need help to dream? People dream all the time.." His voice faltered and he rubbed his palms over his head distractedly. "What's special about the dreams you have when you take this stuff? Make you feel like you're somewhere different? Well? Well?"
"Jeez, it's just one night," said Yeager. "You could do that standing on your heads. In the morning you'll get let out. Now put that money away and I won't charge you with trying to bribe an officer, which would get you locked up for years."
OOC,[b]Remy[/b] and [b]Markus[/b], roll Idea.
Bill Johns,"The point is the ability to control your own dreams," said [b]Dr. Anderson[/b], "also known as lucid dreaming. A few people are able to do this on their own already. I'm hoping Morpheus can enable anyone to decide what they want to dream about and take control of their dreams. We're still in the early stages of testing, but something like this could be very much in demand one day. It could be useful for dream therapy, where a psychiatrist could guide a patient into a dream state in order to deal with mental illnesses, for one thing. Ah, but I know why you're so interested in Morpheus." He let the statement hang for a few seconds to let [b]Bill[/b] wonder about it before continuing. "Young [b]Willie Johns[/b] is signed up for my latest round of experiments this weekend. I can see the resemblance. Is he your grandson, or your nephew, perhaps?"
Markus Fletcher,[b]Markus[/b] realized that being locked up overnight might not be the worst thing in the world. After all, [b]Brian Anderson[/b] had just been arrested tonight too. If he's locked up, he may just get the chance to meet and talk to him.
"I don't tink either of us meant it as a bribe. We was just tryin' to make sure we'd have enough to bail ourselves out if i came to it." Remy tells the officer as he puts his money back in his pocket , "I wasn't really hopin' to spend my first night in de city locked up." He says before a thought comes to him.
Mr Handy,[b]Bill[/b] pauses a moment to let the news sink in before slowly shaking his head. "[b]Willie?[/b] Must be some sort of coincidence - he's not one of mine." He rubbed his hands nervously through his hair. "So again, [b]Dr. Anderson[/b], why would [b]Brian[/b] be trying to peddle this stuff? Your average junkie doesn't strike me as the sort to be able to control anything, never mind his dreams."
"Of course you weren't trying to bribe me," said Yeager. "If you were, I'd have already charged you for it. Just didn't want to see you making another mistake."
Remy Leblanc,[b]Remy[/b] realized that while there was danger in being locked up overnight, in that his outstanding warrants from Louisiana could potentially be discovered in the interim, there was also the potential to find out more. After all, [b]Brian Anderson[/b] had just been arrested tonight too. If he's locked up, he may just get the chance to meet and talk to him.
Bill Johns,"Yes, that is true," said [b]Dr. Anderson[/b]. "Honestly, I don't know why [b]Brian[/b] does the things he does. I doubt he was thinking clearly. You're sure you're not related to [b]Willie Johns[/b]? It couldn't possibly be a coincidence. Both of you have the same last name and very nearly the same face."
Mr Handy,[b]Bill[/b]ignored the question. "So what's [b]Brian[/b] got on his mind?" he asked [b]Dr Anderson[/b]. "You're his father - you should be looking out for him. Or were you too busy in the lab?" He wants to put the pressure on [b]Anderson[/b], make him crack - get him off the topic of [b]Willie Johns[/b].
"Not particularly," Yeager told Remy. He then answered Markus. "The food in our jail is very nutritious - which means it tastes like crap."
Bill Johns,[b]Dr. Anderson[/b] frowned. "[b]Brian[/b] is the one who hasn't had much time for me," he said. "I had no idea he was in this much trouble. I have been worried about him, and I've been making an effort to find him all afternoon and evening. I'm not the one who apparently isn't even aware of his family. Now, [b]Sergeant Johns[/b], if there are no further questions, I have much to do to arrange for my son's defense." He rose from his chair.
Mr Handy,[b]Bill[/b] looked pointedly at [b]Dr. Anderson[/b], placed his glass on the nearby table and stood up. "That will be all for now, but don't make any plans to go anywhere, we may want to talk to you again." He made for the front door, but paused before he left, and said, "This research is licenced, isn't it? We wouldn't anyone being put at risk, would we?"
Bill Johns,"Of course," said [b]Dr. Anderson[/b]. "All of our research is sanctioned by the highest authority." He stood up and opened the door for [b]Bill[/b].
Bill Johns and Gregory Anderson emerged from the study and returned to the living room. "Good night, Sergeant," said Dr. Anderson, shaking Bill's hand firmly. "Mr. Padgett, Professor Remington, I'd like you both to remain so we can discuss some things. Professor Scott, thank you for your help. If you'd like to go home now, you may. I realize that the hour is late."
"Sure, Dr. Anderson" said Nancy Remington. "I gave Professor Scott a ride in my car, though. He's going to be waiting on one of us."
"Well, if he'd like to go now, you can take him home and I'll see you in the morning."
"Sorry, Don't mind me, I am just nosy. Would it be possible for me to get out and stretch my legs some? I've been stock in a truck for de last few hours and my legs are killin' me." Remy asks the officer since it seems they were stuck here.
"I think I will take you up on that, the hour is getting late. I would love to know how this turns out though if you don't mind keeping me up to date."
Bill shook Anderson's hand and looked around blankly at his visitors. Their faces seemed to swim before his eyes and his stomach slowly turned over. He staggered, almost drunkenly towards the door, pulled it open and almost fell outside. He grabbed ahold of the wooden handrail next to the door and sank to his knees, his head low, breathing heavily as he tried to get a grip of himself.
Bill left the house along with Anthony Scott and Nancy. Nancy looked back into the house. "Good night, Dr. Anderson," she said. "I'll see you in the morning." She offered her arm to Anthony. "I'll be glad to keep you posted. Where do you live? Maybe while I'm driving you home you can tell me about your cousin Kathleen." Then she noticed Bill's bewildered state. "Are you all right?"
"Good night," said Dr. Anderson. He closed and locked the front door, then nodded to Jerome. "Shall we retire to my study?"
"You'll be able to pace all you want in your cell when we get back to the Roundhouse," said Yeager to Remy. He turned to Markus. "Thanks, I will have that smoke." He reached back and took a cigarette, then lit it with his own lighter. "Want a light?" He glanced forward again and saw Bill and a couple of the others emerging from the house. "Hey, Sergeant! You're looking a bit wobbly. You been having drinks with the professor? Any time you're ready." He leaned across the shotgun seat and opened up the front passenger door.
"S'not drink," slurred Bill, in reply to the voices that seemed to come from miles away. He tried to push himself to his feet but his head swam suddenly and he collapsed back to his knees. His world shrank in on itself, his vision tunnelled, focussed only the patch of grass in front of him that swam in and out of focus.
"Right," said Yeager, opening his door. "You two wait here. I'll be back in a minute." He got out, shut the door, and headed over to Bill.
"I don't know," said Nancy to Anthony. "I wasn't in the study with him."
"It's not Morpheus if that's what you're thinking," said Yeager as he arrived outside the house. "If it was, he'd be passed out already. Sounds like he just had one too many." He helped Bill to his feet. "Okay, Sergeant, let's get you back to the Mustang. Once I lock those other two drunks in the can I'll spin you home. It's been a long night."
Bill looked up and saw the faces peering down at him, as if looking through opaque glass. 'This isn't real,' he told himself, 'Don't know what's happening, but this isn't real!' He grabbed ahold of Yeager for support and pulled himself to his feet. "This isn't real!" he yelled, spittle flying from his lips, "None of this is real!" He pushed himself away from Yeager, the world seeming to spin around him, and started to stagger down the street.
"What's got into you?!" asked Yeager, coming up behind Bill. He tries to grab him, but the older man slipped past. "Get a grip on yourself, man! Did Dr. Anderson give you anything to eat or drink in there? I'm thinking he slipped you a little something, even if it wasn't Morpheus."
"Had a drink but s'not that!" snarled Bill as he swung wildly at Yeager. "It's all this - it's not real - Anderson spotted me - he knows who I am - knew who I am - I shouldn't be here... ..." He turned to squint at Nancy "I'm sorry, Mary - didn't wan' it to be this way..." and he turned and carried on staggering down the street.
"Why would Dr. Anderson know you?" asked Nancy. She looked at Bill closely. "Of course! You look kind of like that young fellow who signed up for the experiment. Must be a relative of yours."
"Spotted you?!" said John Yeager. "Well, i'd hope so, seeing as you went in to talk to him. You were okay when you did, but now you're acting crazy - even for you! He must have done something!" Without warning, he slapped Bill hard across the face. The blow definitely stung, but it caused no real damage, though this was by design. Bill sensed that Yeager was perfectly capable of seriously hurting someone if he so chose. "Was that real enough for ya?"
Bill stepped back sharply with the shock of the impact, tripped over his own feet and sat down - hard! The shock of the impact stung his palms and left him winded. He looked down at his shoes as he tried to get his breath back. He sat a moment and squinted up at Yeager. "Shit," Bill said, "I'm... I'm..." He shook his head. How could he begin to explain what was happening to him? He shook his head and held out a hand for Yeager to help him up.
Yeager gripped Bill's hand firmly and pulled him to his feet. "Hell, everyone gets suckered sometime or other," he said. "I don't know what that mad scientist did to you, but we're going to find out. Once we lock those two drunks up, I'll take you over to the hospital and have the docs look you over. We can check up on Scarecrow while we're there."
"Yeah, yeah," nodded Bill, glancing at Yeager and then averting his gaze. He looked away down the street, rubbing his forehead as if trying to dislodge some unpleasant thoughts.
He turned back to Nancy. "Who's this kid who's signed up for the experiment?" he said carefully, trying to keep the tremor from his voice.
"Normally that sort of thing is confidential," said Nancy, "but you are the police, and you do seem to be related to him. He's an undergrad at Penn named Willie Johns."
John Yeager and Bill walked back to the Mustang. Yeager got behind the wheel while Bill got into the shotgun seat. Remy and Markus remained in the back seats. Yeager started the engine, which roared to life. Then he performed a U-turn and began driving back to the expressway at high speed.
"I'll take you home now," Nancy said to Anthony as she led him to her car. "Where do you live?"
Professor Anthony Scott,Roll Idea to see if [b]Willie Johns[/b] is familiar to you.
Mr. Handy wrote:John Yeager and Bill walked back to the Mustang. Yeager got behind the wheel while Bill got into the shotgun seat. Remy and Markus remained in the back seats. Yeager started the engine, which roared to life. Then he performed a U-turn and began driving back to the expressway at high speed.
Bill looked out of the window as Yeager heads back to the station. After a while he looks across at at Yeager and asks, "What are we taking these two in for?"
OOC,[b]Anthony Scott[/b] is moving to the thread linked below. Please stop reading the current thread at this point. [b]Jerome Padgett[/b] will also move to his own thread if his player returns. Everyone else remains in the current thread.
"Oh, the usual," said Yeager. "Drunk and disorderly, attempting to buy drugs. A night in a cell should sort them out. If it doesn't, next time I run into them they won't be so pleased to see me." He drove the rest of the way back to police headquarters.
Police Headquarters, Franklin Square - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 11:00 PM - Wednesday, July 16, 1969
It was 11:00 by the time Yeager reached the lot outside the Roundhouse. He pulled the Mustang into one of the free spaces, of which there were more than there had been earlier in the evening, and parked. He got out of the car, taking his keys with him, and opened the back door. "Okay, you two, out you go." Remy stumbled blearily out of the car and stood, weaving slightly as he waited for Markus to come along.
Bill was tired. He felt like he'd been up all night and a tired headache had been building since he'd got in the car. When he saw Markus light up, his temper snapped. He reached out and snatched the cigarette, flicking it away into the darkness. "It's a no smoking building, numb-nuts!" he snarled, "Now get in there!" He jerked his thumb in the direction of the main entrance in emphasis.
"Like hell it is!" said Yeager. "The day I can't smoke at my own desk is the day I turn in my badge!" He turned to Markus. "It's more like two and a half stars, but if you're drunk enough to see double, you won't be able to tell the difference. All right, let's get you two booked." He ushered Markus and Remy inside, followed by Bill.
The same sergeant was still on duty at the front desk, and he buzzed the group in. "Two for the drunk tank," said Yeager as he breezed through the door and into the lobby, the others close behind him. "Someone book these clowns for me. We have another stop to make. The charges are drunk and disorderly and attempting to buy drugs."
The desk sergeant motioned for one of the officers behind the desk to take care of it. "This way," he said, leading Markus and Remy over to a pair of round elevators at the back of the lobby. Between them, in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window, stood a portrait of Commissioner Frank Rizzo. The officer pressed a button to summon an elevator going down.
"RIght," said Yeager, nodding to Bill and jerking his head at the exit. "Hospital."
OOC,[b]Remy[/b] and [b]Markus[/b] are returning to the thread linked below. Please stop reading the current thread at this point. [b]Bill[/b] and [b]John Yeager[/b] remain in the current thread,
Yeager shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, leading Bill back outside to the parking lot. He slid behind the wheel of the Mustang again and leaned across to open the passenger door. "Hop in. Where do you live?"
OOC,I don't recall seeing an address for Bill? Hmm, may need to play for time...
Bill looked at Yeager and shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know the address. He patted his jacket pocket, "I err, think I left my wallet inside. give me a minute, yeah?" Without waiting for an answer he turned back and walked swiftly into the police station. The desk sergeant was talking to a colleague so Bill flashed his badge and reached over the desk, searching for a phone directory. His hand found the heavy book and he held it up so the sergeant could see what he'd taken. He shuffled around so he had his back to the sergeant and quickly flicked through the directory, looking for 'Johns, W'...
OOC,Any luck? If he can't narrow it down, he'll tear out the page that has and 'Johns, W' phone numbers and addresses before heading to the gents to see if there's anything in his wallet with an address on it.
Bill found two entries for a Johns, William. One of them listed his old dorm at the University of Pennsylvania, and seemed to be for his younger self. The other was a Rittenhouse Square address. Above both of them was a Johns, Frederick - his father's name - which had the house and phone number where he had grown up when the family wasn't traveling overseas. He tore out the page, folded it, and stuck it in his pocket before heading down a curving hall in the west wing of the building to the men's room. Inside, he took out his wallet and looked inside. The Rittenhouse Square address was on his driver's license, confirming that it was the correct one. He recalled that he had seen it before when he had looked through his wallet in Yeager's office. Still, it hadn't been a complete waste of time coming back inside, and he had spared himself the embarrassment of having to look up his own address in front of the lieutenant.
OOC,Didn't save me the embarrassment of having to admit to the GM that I hadn't been paying attention. ;)
Bill headed back out of the men's room and out of Police HQ. He got into the car next to Yeager, and told him the address. He rubbed his hands over his face, "Boy, I'm tired - I reckon I could sleep for a week!"
OOC,It was over a year ago in real time, so not remembering it is perfectly understandable.
"You'll have to make do with eight hours or so," said Yeager as he pulled out of the parking lot. "I need you back here at 8:00 AM, when our shift starts." He drove through the nighttime streets. Even at this late hour there was still some traffic, but he had no trouble making good time.
Bill Johns's Apartment Building, Rittenhouse Square - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 11:15 PM - Wednesday, July 16, 1969 Yeager eventually brought the Mustang to a stop outside a four-story apartment building overlooking Rittenhouse Square Park. Bill's apartment number on his license had been listed as 201, so it was likely up one flight of stairs. He had a ring of keys in his pocket, and one of them would hopefully unlock it. "Well, here we are," said the lieutenant.
Bill looked out the window and up at the building. He pictured the apartment and wondered if his parents were home - part of him wished they would be there to give him some sort of normalcy, but he knew that them seeing him wasn't an option. He sighed, wished Yeager'good night' and climbed out of the car.
Pushing the car door shut, he headed up the steps to the front door. He studied the keys and tried one in the lock. It didn't turn so he tried a second, which worked this time. He turned and mock-saluted Yeager and stepped through the door and into the familiar hallway beyond.
OOC,I'm assuming the keys work!
Bill will check out the hallway first. Is there anyone there? Any mail waiting in the family mailbox that might indicate where his parents are i.e. postcards from abroad? A pile of mail suggesting that no-one's been home to empty the mailbox. I presume that there's a key on the bunch, if it's locked?
OOC,Yes, the keys work, and there is a smaller mailbox key on the ring. Note that this is not the address for [b]Bill[/b]'s family (that's somewhere else entirely), and it's not familiar at all. You do not remember ever having been here before. The only name on the mailbox is your own.
[b]John Yeager[/b] will move to a new thread at this point if his player ever returns or he gets a new player.
Yeager returned Bill's salute, in earnest, and the Mustang roared off down the street. Bill found the key to let himself into the apartment building's vestibule. It did not seem familiar to him, but one apartment building entrance was much like another. A row of mailboxes was on the wall to the left, and he easily found the one for 201 with his name on it, as well as the small key on his ring that fit it. Opening the mailbox, he found no mail. It was a rare day in 2009 when his mailbox was empty, but junk mail wasn't as much of a problem in 1969. The hallway was deserted at this hour. It led further ahead, with doors to apartments on the left-hand wall starting at 101, then 102, and so on. To the right, just a little past the entrance, a carpeted stairway led upwards. The building did not have an elevator.
Bill glanced at the number on the keys and the numbers on the mailboxes. Surmising that the '2' in '201' meant a second floor apartment, he headed for the stairs. He moved quietly - he didn't want to bump into any neighbours at this stage, he wanted to get into his apartment, lock out the world and try and get his head together.
OOC,Assuming he doesn't bump into anyone, he'll let himself into his apartment and take a look around.
Bill made his way upstairs to the second floor. Nobody was in the hall, and everything was quiet at this time of night. He easily found the door to apartment 201 and let himself in with one of his keys. The apartment was a small one-bedroom unit. The living room contained a tall torch lamp, a leather couch and matching armchair, a stereo, a record player, and a TV set. A cabinet beneath the stereo contained a number of LP records. The kitchen area, which was on the right side of the living room, had a rotary phone on the wall and was well stocked with food and drink. In addition to juice and milk, the fridge contained a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine. There was also a coffee perkolator on the counter. On the left was a door leading to the bedroom, where he found a queen-sized bed and a dresser and closet full of various clothes. There was also a bookcase against one wall, and curtains covered a window. The bathroom was off of the bedroom and had a sink, toilet, and combination tub/shower. The alarm clock on the bedroom nightstand, of the old analog variety, said that it was 11:20.
Bill was tired but didn't want to miss the opportunity of finding out a bit more about who he was. He pulled one of the bottles of beer from the six pack and flicked off the cap with a bottle opener set into the end of the kitchen worktop.
He took a slug from the bottle and wandered through the small apartment, picking up books and LPs - seeing what, if anything, his tastes in reading in music might tell him. That done, he started looking more methodicallly, opening drawers in the kitchen and bedroom, looking for anything that might tell him more about what he was doing there.
Bill found a lot of books on history, mythology and archaeology, and the LPs had the sort of music he had listened to back in college. Everything seemed to reflect his personal tastes within the restrictions of what was available in 1969. It was all somehow more mature than how he had lived in his old college dorm. The drawers had typical contents: silverware in the kitchen, clothing in the dresser in the bedroom. The wardrobe was similar to what he wore now, matching the style of the time and decidedly professional.
Bill took another drink and flicked through the LPs. A mix of soul singers and blues players, some of which he'd forgotten he existed. He pulled out an early Fleetwood Mac LP and slipped it from the sleeve. He settled it onto the turntable and carefully lifted the needle onto the groove. As the pop and hiss of the vinyl filled the speakers, he sat back on the sofa and closed his eyes. He remembered hearing Fleetwood Mac at a blues party somewhere and he'd paid what seemed like an extortionate amount of money at store specialising in British imports to get a copy for himself. As Peter Green's fingers produced magic from his guitar, Bill thought back to his time as a student and smiled... ...
The steady click of the needle in the groove woke Bill, who sat up suddenly. He looked around wildly, momentarily unsure of where he was. He sat back on the sofa again and rubbed his face - he'd fallen asleep. "Man, I'm tired" he said to himself, his voice sounding loud to his ears. He shook his head, shambled over to the door and made sure it was locked. That done, he headed to the bedroom hit the sack.
OOC,[b]Bill[/b] will set the alarm for 6.45am. Not sure how he'll get to work - he'll sort that out in the morning.
OOC,You could actually walk there. It wouldn't take more than half an hour. I live only a few blocks from where you are now and work in the same building, and it takes me around 25 minutes to walk it. You could also ride SEPTA, the local public transportation. There's a bus route that will get you most of the way there, or you could take the subway. You might possibly have a car too. There was a set of car keys on that ring in your pocket. But, yes, you can worry about that later. First I'll mess with your head a little. :twisted:
As Bill crossed the darkened room heading for the bedroom, the television set suddenly came on. The soft crackle of static came from it as a glow in the middle of the screen expanded from a dot to fill it.
Bill paused, looking at the screen then around at the apartment. Must be the wiring he thought, and made a note to unplug the set from the wall socket. He stepped over to the TV set, his hand reaching out for the button - 'no remote' he thought wryly - to switch it off.
The television gradually warmed up as he crossed the room, not like modern sets that produced an image instantly when you turned them on. It had a knob rather than a button for turning it on and off, but the set did not shut off when Bill turned it. Instead the picture resolved itself and sound came from the TV.
On the screen, a hospital room was visible in black and white. A bald doctor in a white coat and holding a clipboard was talking to a pretty nurse with light hair. The patient was not visible. From the camera angle, it appeared that the scene was from the patient's perspective. The steady, slow beeping of a heart monitor could be heard in the background.
"How is he, Doctor?" she asked.
"He's stable, at least," said the doctor. "Still comatose, though."
Bill pushed the off button again, frowning as it had no effect. He leaned over the TV and smacked it sharply on the side - as he'd seen his dad do to the old-fashioned sets they'd had when he was a kid. Similarly ineffective and starting to have a funny feeling about the image, he stood back and studied the picture.
"Keep fighting, Bill," said the doctor, looking directly into the camera - and into Bill's eyes. "We're trying to bring you back, but we need your help."
Bill glanced behind himself instinctively. The man doctor couldn't be talking to him, could he? He looked back at the screen, kneeling down to see more clearly. He waved his hand in front of the screen, as if to break the man's gaze. "Are you talking to me?" he asked incredulously.
There was nothing behind Bill but the wall of the apartment.
"Doctor, did you see that?" asked the nurse, excitement audible in her voice. "His eyelids just fluttered!"
"Yes," said the doctor. "It could just be a reflex action, but maybe he did hear us." He looked at something just slightly off camera. "Yes, I'm seeing increased brainwave activity here."
"Is he waking up?"
"No, not yet. I don't think he's strong enough yet."
Even more sure that the man was somehow talking to him, Bill banged the palm of his hand against the glass of the TV screen. "Here! I'm here!" he said, his voice rising. 'What the hell is going on?' he thought to himself. 'Am I dreaming this?'
"We're doing everything we can for you, Bill," said the doctor. "I have confidence that you'll recover, but it's going to take you some time."
"Please, wake up," said the nurse. "Wake up, Bill."
Suddenly, Bill did wake up. He was back on the sofa where he had dozed off earlier. The TV was off, and the LP was still spinning on the record player, the needle clicking periodically. Sunlight was also starting to stream through the window, but it was faint. as though the sun had just risen.
Bill blinked against the week sunlight, squinting as he tried to read the time on his watch. The hands swum slowly into focus and he sighed heavily - 4.00am. He sighed and closed his eyes, covering his face with his arm to try to block out the sun that seemed to lance into his eyes like a rapier.
Bill shifted round trying to get comfortable but sleep eluded him.His brain was replaying the days events, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. If the TV was to be believed, he was in a hospital - comatose - the nurse had said. If so, what was he doing back in 1968? And a policeman? What was all that about?
OOC,It's actually 1969, not 1968. The sun doesn't rise quite that early here, even in the height of summer. It probably would if Daylight Savings Time weren't in effect, however.
Bill's vision was a little blearier than he had thought. When he refocused it, he saw that the hour hand on his watch was pointing to the 5, not the 4. There was plenty of time to have coffee and breakfast and then get to work if he stayed awake, or he might be able to snatch another hour or more of sleep. But did he want to? What sorts of dreams would he have?
Bill tried to get off to sleep, knowing from years of experience that he'd have a crippling headache in the morning if he didn't get enough shut-eye. He pulled one of the cushions over his face to cut out the incipient dawn and snuggled down. He was dog-tired and despite everything that he had going through his mind, he soon nodded off and the small apartment echoed to the sound of his snoring.
Thankfully, Bill had no dreams this time, or at least none that he could remember. When he woke up again, his watch read 6:30 AM. That left him enough time to get ready for work and get there by 8:00. He was no more groggy than usual, and some coffee would fix that.
Bill put the coffee on and headed for the shower. Feeling much better, he padded through the apartment with a towel wrapped around his waist and a cup of joe in his hand. He opened the doors to the wardrobe and slowly whistled. Last time he'd seen a wardrobe like that, it had been in a costume shop prior to a 60's themed party. He sighed and started flicking through the clothes, trying to find something to wear.
Ten minutes later he was heading out the door, clad in brown cords, a striped shirt and a tweed jacket (complete with leather elbow patches). Deciding to walk and get some fresh air, he locked the door securely and headed in the direction of work.
Police Headquarters, Franklin Square - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 7:45 AM - Thursday, July 17, 1969
Even walking at a leisurely pace, Bill made it back to police headquarters with time to spare. A different sergeant was on duty at the front desk, and he buzzed Bill in when he showed his badge. After waiting for the elevator, he rode it up to the first floor and made his way back to Detective Headquarters. A different group of detectives was working here than he had seen the night before, as it was a different shift. Sergeant Charlie Rawlings was seated at his desk, having also arrived early. He had his feet up on the desk and was leaning back, smoking a cigarette while reading a newspaper. A mug of coffee, still steaming, rested on the desk.
"Morning, Bill," said Charlie when he saw him enter. "Good you got here early on your first full day. The Lou is here already too, talking to Captain Fox in his office. You'll be happy to know that Harry woke up a bit before midnight, right as rain."
Bill mentally replayed the event of yesterday and nodded. "Is Harry coming in today or did they give him a couple of days off?" he asked as he helped himself to the coffee. He poured a mug and perched on the edge of Charlie's desk. "Any idea what Yeager's got planned for us today?"
OOC: Back from my hols - sorry it took so long to get back up to speed.
The coffee tasted bitter in Bill's mouth and wasn't as good as the coffee he had at home, but it did the job of helping to wake him up.
"Yeah, he's coming in," said Charlie. "The docs kept him overnight at the hospital for observation, but he's normal - or at least as normal as he ever gets." Detective Harry Sawyer walked in with Officer Amy Cooper. "Speak of the devil."
"I'm okay," said Harry. "The docs don't know what that stuff was, but they don't think it did any harm. I had the freakiest dream, but I can't remember much of it. Something about a priest and a talking cat. Woke up before midnight. The doctors kept me awake a few hours afterwards for some tests, but I managed to get some regular shuteye after that, so I'm not tired. Ready to get back to work. What's on our plate today?"
"Well, Captain Fox is going to want to meet Sergeant Johns once he's done with the Lou," said Charlie. "We've got Brian Anderson's arraignment coming up at nine, though we won't all need to be there, and I'm sure we'll be busy with our usual load of cases. Oh, and we should be hearing back from NCIC this morning about those two guys we picked up outside the prof's house last night."
"What's Fox like?" asked Bill, trying to remain nonchalant."Is he easy-going or a hard-ass?" Inwardly, he was starting to sweat - if the Cap grilled him on his experience, he was going to come unstuck. He glanced around, wondering if anyone would notice his discomfit.
Charlie nodded. "He's been a cop almost as long as I've been alive," he said. "He taught the Lou everything he knows about the job."
The door to the captain's office opened and Lieutenant Yeager poked his head out. "Good, the gang's all here," he said. "The captain wants to meet you, Bill. You come too, Charlie."
"Sure thing, Lou." Charlie headed over to Fox's office.
Bill joined the others in Captain Fox's office. It was larger than Yeager's, but less decorated. The walls did have a few things on them, including a framed college diploma and black-and-white pictures that dated back to the 1930s. There was one featuring a group of young men in old fashioned (even for 1969) police uniforms, lined up in front of the police academy - presumably the captain's graduating class.
Captain Fox himself was a tall, balding, slightly overweight man in his fifties. His silver hair, what he had left of it, was swept back, and he wore a conservative gray suit and navy blue tie. He rose from behind his desk when Bill entered. "Ah, Sergeant Johns," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Captain Robert Fox. Pleased to meet you."
"Pleased to meet you too, Captain Fox," replied Bill, shaking his hand. "It's good to be here." Lost for anything else to say, he nodded his head and glanced at Yeager.
Fox returned Bill's handshake with a strong grip in spite of his age. "Welcome, Sergeant," he said. "It's good to have you here. I understand you've already been working with Lieutenant Yeager since last night, even before your first official day here. I like a man who's willing to put in extra hours and shows some initiative."
"You'd better get used to working overtime," added Yeager. "We tend to get a lot of it."
"Yes, that's true. Now, roll call will be in a few minutes, but there's time for a quick planning session first. Sergeant, you already have your badge, and there'll a pair of handcuffs with your name on them. You'll be issued a service weapon as well, but first you need to qualify at the firing range. At some point during your tour of duty today you'll have to go down to the Police Academy to do that. You're going to be in charge of A Squad, which consists of three other detectives that you're going to meet shortly. Lieutenant Yeager leads B Squad personally, and Sergeant Rawlings commands C Squad."
"Don't let the lettering fool you. B Squad is the best, but A is pretty damn good too."
"Do you have any questions?" Captain Fox asked Bill.
"Actually your tour goes from 8 to 4," said the captain, "but, yes, we all have to put in extra hours, and I'm no exception. Keep up the good work, Sergeant, and I'm sure you'll fit in well here."
"Right," said John Yeager, "let's get to it. Later, sir," he added to Captain Fox.
Bill returned to the main office with John and Charlie. Yeager closed the door behind him. Almost a dozen detectives in suits and ties were already at their desks. "Harry," said Yeager. "A word with you before roll call."
Harry came over, sheepishly staring at his feet. "Sir," he said.
"Had a good nap?"
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Let me make one thing clear to you: from now on, don't mess with anything you find in a drug dealer's bag. Don't drink anything, don't eat anything, and for God's sake don't smoke anything in there! Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
He rounded on Charlie. "And you!"
"Me?" said Charlie, confusion on his face.
"What were you doing while he went and drank that crap?! You're supposed to be his sergeant, and that means keeping him out of trouble. Harry I expect this from, but you?"
Bill waited while Yeager chewed out Harry and Charlie. He looked around the office to see if there was an empty desk he might appropriate - he'd feel less like a fish out of water if he had somewhere to call his own. Right now, all he had was his shield- he didn't even have a pen to make notes.
Bill found the empty desk where he had sat last night and sat down there. He recalled that Amy had mentioned last night that it was intended for a new man that they were waiting for, and he realized that this desk must have been intended for him. Though the surface was clear other than the telephone, it was possible that the drawers were not empty.
Yeager looked up at the clock on the wall, which now read 8:00. "Good morning, everyone!" he announced loudly, getting everybody's attention. The detectives all stopped what they were doing, whether it was going over paperwork, drinking coffee, or eating donuts. "I'd like everyone to meet our new Sergeant, Bill Johns." He indicated Bill with a wave of his arm. "Sergeant Johns is in charge of A Squad. Now I'll call the roll, starting with A Squad: Banner, Ralph."
"Present," said a tall, thin man in his forties with black hair just starting to go gray.
"O'Hara, Daniel."
"Present," replied a heavyset man of about fifty years old with white hair and a mustache to match. He had been hitting the donuts rather heavily.
"Warner, Sam,"
"Present," answered a man in his thirties of average build. He had blond hair and wore glasses.
Yeager then called the roll for B Squad, which included Amy Cooper, followed by C Squad, which included Charlie and Harry. After he confirmed that everyone was there, he continued speaking. "Last night our undercover operation finally yielded fruit. Thanks to Detective Harry Sawyer, Sergeant Rawlings and I arrested Brian Anderson, AKA the Candyman, as he was selling illegal drugs in Lenny's Bar on South Street. Mr. Anderson was charged with the attempted murder of our new sergeant in addition to his various other crimes, so he should be going away for a good long time. His arraignment is this morning at 9:00, and I intend to be there. Sergeant Johns, would you like to attend as well?"
Bill raised a hand in welcome to his new squad. He nodded as Yeager spoke about the arraignment, "I'll be there if you need me," he said. "I want to see justice done. What time do we go?"
"Thanks," said Yeager. "City Hall's not too far away. We could even walk it in about fifteen minutes, but we'll take the Mustang and leave at 8:30 to make sure we get there a little ahead of time. Gives us a chance to talk to the prosecutor beforehand too." He continued with roll call. "Last night we also busted a couple of guys on drunk and disorderly charges, for starters. They were staking out the house of Professor Gregory Anderson, our illustrious Candyman's old man. They may have just been looking for drugs, or maybe not. Either way, they were definitely up to no good. They're not from around here: a good ol' boy from Louisiana and a limey. They're being arraigned this morning too. O'Hara, you hear anything back from NCIC yet on them?"
"No response yet, sir," said Detective Daniel O'Hara. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear something."
"I thought these computer things were supposed to speed everything up."
Charlie shrugged. "Guess it still boils down to someone on the other end going through a filing cabinet and searching through papers, Lou," he said.
"Anyway, we all have our usual caseloads to work on, and I'm sure there will be new crimes we'll have to deal with throughout the day. Any questions?"
The drawers of Bill's desk contained various office supplies: notepads, pens, pencils, a stapler, paper clips, and so on. There was also a desk calendar for 1969 in one of the drawers that looked fairly standard, with space for keeping track of meetings and appointments. The desk still had the rotary telephone on top of it that he remembered from last night, as well as a Remington typewriter that had apparently just been placed there this morning. A blotter covered much of the desk's surface.
"Right," said Yeager when nobody had any questions. "Let's all get to work, then." The detectives all returned to their desks. Some of them took out paperwork and began working on it, while others started making phone calls.
Bill looked around, sort of lost. He knew he should talk to his squad, but didn't really know what to say to them - he was worried that his lack of experience (other than what he had seen on police TV shows) would shine through. He looked back down at his desk and flicked through the desk calendar to see if had any appointments in it.
Bill closed the calendar with a snap and reached for the notebook. He flicked through the pages more in hope than expectation, than glanced at the clock to check the time.
The notebooks were also fresh, without any marks on their pages. Everything here looked brand new and had probably been placed here for his use in the last several hours. The clock showed that it was 8:20 AM. In ten minutes it would be time to leave for court. The detectives were all busily working.
Bill glanced around, a trickle of sweat slowly running down his back. He glanced around but everyone had their heads down, working. He picked up the pencil from his desk and started writing mechanically, slowly tracing the numbers he formed on the page, again and again and again... ...
"Um, yeah," said Bill, blinking and shaking his head. He snapped the notebook shut and shoved it in his pocket. He pushed his chair back from his desk and stood up. "Ready when you are," he said to Yeager.
Bill and John Yeager went back down to the lobby and outside to the parking lot, where the Mustang awaited. Both of them got in, and Yeager pulled out and headed south down Eighth Street, turning right on Market. City Hall could be seen in the middle distance to the west, the blue-green statue of William Penn atop its high dome.
"Always good to see criminals getting sent away," said Yeager.
"Yeah," replied Bill, absent-mindedly. He looked out the window, trying to match the city he know with the one that was passing by. "Can't believe how much things have changed," he muttered to himself.
"I know," said Yeager. "City Hall is still the tallest building around, but not by much. But when I was little, it was the only really tall building. And that's not all that's changed. Crime has gotten a lot worse in recent years. Oh, it was always there, but it's more rampant now. Can't imagine it getting much worse." Bill knew that it would get worse, and by a great deal. He had gotten used to buildings that dwarfed City Hall, ever since the 1980s when the law was changed to permit it. Center City was built up even in 1969, but not quite as much. "Of course, not every change is bad. Skirts have gotten a good deal shorter, at least." Yeager glanced at a young blonde in a miniskirt strolling down the street.
Soon they arrived at City Hall, and Yeager found a parking spot less than a block away. That wouldn't have been easy in 2009; parking was another thing that had gotten worse. Yeager parked, got out, and stretched. "We made good time, too. Ready to go meet the prosecutor?"
Bill looked over towards Yeager and said, "Sure - ready when you are." As they approached city hall, Bill looked around. He'd been in the building more than a few times over the years on business and it made him smile wryly to realise that some the decor had hardly been updated.
John Yeager led Bill into the door at the northeast corner, flashing his badge to the security guard as they went past. There were no card scanners as there were in modern times, and security wasn't anywhere near as tight, though it still existed. They walked down the hall to the west, passing a number of doors as they went. People in suits went up and down the hall on business of their own. Finally, Yeager stopped outside a door. "Here we are," he said, opening the door.
On the other side was a typical courtroom, similar to those in which Bill had had jury duty before criminal cases were moved to the Criminal Justice Center. They made their way to the prosecutor's table, where a man in his early forties with thinning black hair was making notes on a legal pad. He stood up as they approached. "Hey, John," he said. "Good to see you again."
"Likewise," said Yeager. "This here's my new sergeant, Bill Johns. Bill, this is Assistant District Attorney Craig Matthews."
"Nice to meet you," said Craig, offering his hand.
"Hi Craig, good to meet you," replied Bill, shaking the Assistant DA's offered hand. He glanced around and looked back at Craig. "So what's the order of play for today?" he asked.
"Well, the proceeding starts at 9:00 sharp," said Craig. "The judge is Henry Lofton, and he's known to be tough on crime, which is good for us. I'll read the charges and then move to deny bail. The defendant's lawyer will ask for bail."
"Chances good that bail will be denied?" asked Yeager. "After what he's done, I'd be surprised if he gets it."
"Well...the District Attorney has decided not to charge him with attempted murder."
"What?!" Yeager grumbled. "Thank you, Arlen Specter! Look, this punk tried to kill my sergeant here last night."
"I understand that, but he feels that there isn't enough evidence to get a conviction on that count."
OOC,[b]Bill[/b], make a History roll to see how much you know about Arlen Specter. Even if you fail, you've definitely heard of him and know some things about him.
OOC,The name [b]Arlen Specter[/b] rings bells with [b]Bill[/b] and he racks his memory for the answer: [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2784925/]Arlen Specter - who art thou? (1d100=73)[/url]
"Damnit!" snapped Bill. He was relieved in a way that he wouldn't be taking the stand because his memory of last night's events was hazy, but he still wanted Anderson out of the way. He was a danger to Bill - and to Mary. He sighed heavily, "So we got him on the drugs charge - is he going down on that?"
"Oh, yes," said Craig. "The drug charges, plus we've got him on resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer. We've got his voluntary confession too. I don't usually say this, but this case is a slam dunk. I don't think we'll be seeing Mr. Anderson again for years."
"Sounds good to me," said John Yeager. "Not good enough, though. We'll have to see what evidence we can turn up to support the attempted murder case."
Bill recalled that Arlen Specter's first claim to fame was as the author of the "single bullet theory" in the Warren Commission's investigation of President Kennedy's assassination, which claimed that Lee Harvey Oswald had acted alone. Specter had started out as a Democrat and was elected District Attorney for Philadelphia in the mid-1960s. He then switched to the Republican Party. After two terms, he was defeated for reelection in 1973. He had a couple of failed campaigns for U.S. Senator and governor of Pennsylvania in the 1970s before finally being elected to the U.S. Senate in 1980. He had held that office ever since.
"DA's office is always the same," grumbled Bill. He didn't want to sound too enthusiastic because he knew there would be nothing to find to support his claim - the assault had happened in the future after all.
"No, we won't need you to testify at this time," said Craig. "The arraignment this morning is just the first step in the process, of course. We'll also schedule the preliminary hearing, for which we may need you. At the hearing, we'll set the trial date."
At that time, two uniformed police officers entered the courtroom, escorting Brian Anderson, who was handcuffed. Behind him, the lawyer Alan Gains followed.
"Right here," said Yeager, "in the front row of benches before the prosecutor's table." The two men took a seat. The police officers led Brian down the aisle and over to the defendant's table on the opposite side. Brian glared at Bill as he walked past. The cops helped him into a chair behind the defense table and Alan Gains sat beside him. Then the cops walked over to the prosecutor's side of the room, though they still kept an eye on Brian.
"Morning, gents," said Yeager, nodding to the cops.
"Good morning, sir," said one of them while they both saluted. He returned the salute.
A bailiff entered the courtroom from the hallway and took up a post beside the entrance.
Back at the defense table, Brian and Alan Gains spoke to each other in hushed tones.
OOC,[b]Bill[/b], roll Listen if you want to try to overhear them.
Bill pointedly ignored Brian as he walked past him and over to bench. He saw Brian talking to his lawyer and tried to listen in but there was too much background noise in the courtroom.
Time passed in silence. A few more people entered the courtroom, including Dr. Gregory Anderson, who sat in the front row behind the defense table. Most of the others looked like journalists, carrying notebooks and sketchpads. The court stenographer took up her seat near the judge's bench. At 9:00 AM sharp, the bailiff spoke up: "All rise!" he called as the courtroom doors swung open. A tall, white-haired man in a black robe who couldn't have been much younger than seventy strode into the room and up the aisle as people started to stand.
Bill watched Dr. Anderson carefully - he hadn't forgotten the events of the night before when he visited the man at his home. As the bailiff announced the arrival of the judge, he looked away, studying the judge and trying to second guess his mood.
Bill watched the judge carefully as he made his way up the aisle and sat down behind the bench.
"You may be seated," said the bailiff loudly. "This court is now in session. This is the arraignment for Brian Anderson. The honorable Judge Henry Lofton is presiding."
The judge banged his gavel gently on the bench once. "This court will come to order," he said. "Assistant District Attorney Matthews, will you please read the charges?"
The prosecutor stepped forward. "Your Honor," he said, "Mr. Anderson is charged with possession of narcotics and other controlled substances with intent to distribute, assaulting a police officer, and resisting arrest."
"Will Mr. Anderson be entering a plea at this time?"
Alan Gains rose. "Not at this time, Your Honor," he said.
"Very well. Let us move on to the matter of bail."
"Your Honor," said Craig Matthews, "I move that the court deny bail. Mr. Anderson is a flight risk and a danger to himself and others, as he showed during his arrest."
"Indeed, Your Honor," said Alan. "My client did not attempt to flee the scene. Until his arrest, his record was clean. For charges such as these, bail should be set low."
The judge nodded. Bill could sense that he was all business and had the deepest respect for the law. While he was tough on crime, he clearly seemed to hold the law paramount, even when the law made it more difficult to punish criminals. "Bail will be set at five hundred dollars. The preliminary hearing for this case will be held on Monday morning at 8:00 AM sharp." He banged his gavel again. "Court is adjourned."
Bill shook his head. "Can you believe that?" he muttered to Yeager, "He's a drug pusher and a would-be cop killer and they let him out on $500 bail? It makes me sick."
Yeager was also fuming. "Lofton's usually a straight shooter," he muttered. "I never figured him for a bleeding-heart liberal. He's starting to go soft in his old age."
Alan Gains walked over to the prosecutor's table. "Mr. Matthews?" he asked. "Are you available to discuss a plea bargain for my client?"
"I have nothing on my schedule this morning," said Craig.
"I'm afraid we're going to have to take your client into protective custody," said Yeager to Gains.
"You can't do that," said Alan Gains. "He's been granted bail. He's a free man as soon as his father posts bond."
"Actually, we can. There are people out there who might want to harm your client."
"Is that a threat?"
"No, just reminding you of his involvement with figures in the New York mob. If they think he's cooperating - and he is - they're likely to want to silence him."
"If your client's innocent like you say he is, then surely you owe him a chance to prove it," interjected Bill. "If the mob get hold of him, he's a dead man. We'll look after him like he's one of our own." There was just a sense of sarcastic undercurrant in his tone.
"If you hold him," said Alan, "the mob will try to get him. If he's out on bail, they won't know he's been talking."
"We'll keep him safe," John Yeager assured him. "He'll be in a safehouse in a location nobody knows about, not a cell, and I'll have two of my best men babysitting him."
"You know," said Bill, "As his Counsellor, don't you have a duty to give him the best advice? You want to let him walk outa here and end up wearing the old concrete boots? If he's lucky! They might just gut him like a fish or vent his skull with a nine-mil!" He glanced across at Brian, looked back at Alan and just shook his head.
OOC,Damn!
[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2876185/][i]"Oh, oh! C'mon, I'm asking you with my brain."[/i] Persuade roll (75%) (1d100=78)[/url]
"Nine-mil?" said John Yeager. "Oh, a nine millimeter. Never heard it called that before, but I like it. Anyway, Mr. Gains, my sergeant is right. He's got a lot of experience in these matters."
"Nice try," said Alan Gains. "You want to place him in 'protective custody' after the judge just gave him bail, I'll file a motion that'll have him out and you in trouble with your commanding officer so fast your head will spin. My client is a free man at least until his trial's over."
"At least let us put a couple of men on him for protection."
"The mob sees cops guarding him, they'll know something's up. I'll tell him your offer, but it's up to him. If he turns you down, you'd better leave him alone. The last thing you want is a lawsuit for police harassment. Good day, gentlemen." Alan returned to the defense table to speak to Brian, who glared at Bill and John and shook his head from side to side.
"It's his funeral," grumbled Bill, "And you can count me out for the collection for flowers." He looked at Yeager, "Where do we go from here? We just gonna let him go or are we gonna stick a tail on him?"
"Of course we're going to put a tail on him," said Yeager, grinning. "We can do it ourselves if you like. He'll recognize us if he spots us, but maybe that's not such a bad thing. Or we can call a couple of our plainclothesmen to come over here and follow him. It'll take a little time to process his bail, so he won't be going anywhere before they arrive and pick up his trail. What do you think?"
"I'm all for doing it ourselves," replied Bill. "But if we show up everytime he turns around we'll have his lawyer on our asses as quick as you can say "'drug-dealer!'" He laughed sourly. "Let's get a couple of plainclothes to follow him round for a bit and see where he goes."
"Sounds good to me," said John Yeager. He led Bill outside to the Mustang and called in to headquarters on the radio. After a moment, he was patched through to Charlie Rawlings. "What can I do for you, Lou?" he asked.
"I need you to send a couple of your guys down to City Hall in an unmarked car and tail our druggie friend," said John. "The idiots cut him loose on bail for next to nothing, and he and his lawyer refused police protection. We can't do it, since he's already made us."
"I'll send them out, Lou. Oh, and we finally heard back from NCIC about those two guys you picked up at the prof's house last night. They had nothing on Fletcher, but Remy Leblanc is wanted back in Louisiana for fraud."
"I knew it! At least I'll have a chance to twist the screws on him a little before he gets extradited, try to find out what he was really up to out there."
"I'm sorry, Lou, but he got turned loose too, only about fifteen minutes before we got the reply from NCIC. I already put out an APB on him."
"Son of a bitch!" John paused and took a deep breath. "Well, it's too late to do anything about that now except find him. Keep me posted, Charlie. Over and out." He disconnected and turned to Bill. "Want to head up to the academy and try out the firing range now? Or is there another angle you think we should check out first?"
"After my run-in with Brian yesterday, I think I better put some time in on the range," replied Bill "We can have a chat about the case in the car, although if I'm honest, I'm scratching my head about it. I think the professor is up to something with his dream stuff and I'd like to know how that Morpheus stuff works as well."
"You and me both," said Yeager. "There's something hinky about that guy, no doubt about it. It's no coincidence that his son's a criminal." He drove through the city streets until he reached I-95, where he got onto the expressway and headed northeast. "We need to get a warrant to wiretap Brian's phone, so that we can listen in when Ribisi makes contact with him on Saturday. With what Brian told us, it shouldn't be hard to arrange. That and keeping a tail on him are the best moves I can think of. You got any ideas, I'm all ears."
"You think he's gonna take the call at home?" asked Bill. "You don't think he'll try and take it on his cell ph... err, I mean take it on a public payphone? Try and throw us off the scent?"
OOC,Yup, that oughta do it. [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2918147/]Idea roll - gotta think of something! (1d100=17)[/url]
"Hmm," said John. "That is possible. But that's why we'll have a couple of guys watching him all the time. If he uses a public phone, if he goes somewhere, they'll be on him like white on rice. If he meets up with Ribisi or any of his mob buddies, our guys will call us and let us know."
Bill recalled that something else was due to happen between now and Saturday. Professor Anderson's experiment would begin Friday night. His younger self and Mary would be there. Only students at the University of Pennsylvania were eligible to participate, but perhaps it might be possible to slip a detective in undercover. There wasn't much time, however, so anyone that was going to get into the experiment would have to do so quickly.
Bill clicked his fingers as if he just remembered something. "You know," he said, "Mary said that the prof is going to be carrying out some experiments on Friday night - some experiments about sleep and dreaming? He might be using that Morpheus stuff! You reckon we can get someone in there to find out what goes down?"
"We just might," said John Yeager. "Harry's cover is still intact, and he's young enough to pose as a student. Brian saw him in Lenny's Bar in his disguise, but he doesn't know he's a cop, and the prof has never met him. In fact, Brian thinks he was a customer. He's already had one dose of Morpheus, and he seems all right after that, but should he risk possibly taking more? We don't know if that stuff is addictive."
"Harry sounds like our man," replied Bill, but I've no idea whether Morpheus is addictive or not. I can't remember what we did..." Bill shook his head, he was getting confused again. "We had the Morpheus analysed, didn't we? Can we find out from the hospital what's in it?"
OOC,Can Bill recall any of the details of the experiments he took part in?
"There wasn't anything left to analyze," said Yeager. "Harry drank the whole thing. They took a blood sample at the hospital and tried to analyze it, but they couldn't identify whatever this substance is. Still, maybe Harry can sneak out a sample for us while he's inside." He got on the radio again and called Charlie back. "We've got something else we can try, Charlie. Have Harry head down to the University of Pennsylvania, using his established cover as a student. He needs to try to sign up for Professor Anderson's experiment so we can have someone on the inside."
"I'll send him right over, Lou," said Charlie.
Bill thought back to the experiment. He had only vague memories of it, but he knew there were six subjects including himself and Mary. Now that he thought about it, Harry did seem sort of familiar. Had he been there? He also had fleeting memories of the redheaded revolutionary girl he had seen at Lenny's Bar and her older drinking companion. Mostly he had eyes only for Mary at the time. He knew that half of the subjects were part of the control group, who drank ordinary chocolate milk instead of the drug, but none of them ever knew to which group they had belonged. That was about all he could recall, but after forty years he was lucky he could remember that much.
"I hope Harry's a bit more alert to what he's drinking than last time," commented Bill wryly. He was trying to remember what had happened at the trial but without success.
He rubbed his hands over his face distractedly. "So much I don't remember," he muttered to himself.
"Don't worry about it," said John. "You never forget how to be a cop. It's like riding a bicycle. You've been doing a fine job so far." He drove onto the exit ramp for State Road. "We'll be at the academy in the few minutes. Once you get out on the range, those memories will come right back."
In all honesty, Bill was worried about how it was going to work out at the range. He'd handled guns before - he couldn't think of anyone he knew who hadn't at one time or another - but he'd never considered himself a crack shot. He didn't want Yeager drumming him out of the force before he even knew what he was doing here.
"If it doesn't come back right away, keep practicing," said Yeager. "I'm an excellent shot, but I keep coming here to practice all the time. That's part of why I got so good at it." He turned off into the lot of the police academy and found a parking spot near the door. He slid in and turned off the engine. "You ready?"
"Yup," replied Bill, with more confidence than he felt. His dad had a gun he'd brought back from the war, a German Walther, and he'd popped off a few rounds from time to time with Bill, but that was a long time ago. He shook his head at the memory and opened the door. "Let's go blow the rust off, yeah?"
"Now you're talkin'," said John Yeager with a grin. He got out of the car too and walked with Bill into the police academy's main entrance, flashing his badge to the officer at the front desk. He led the way through the halls until they reached the firing range. The indoor range contained a tall wooden barrier that rose up to chest height, where there was a flat surface. It was partitioned into several aisles with overhead tracks in the ceiling. Paper targets hung from the tracks in each aisle. They had the black silhouette of a man with concentric white rings over the chest and smaller ones over the head. A tall, uniformed sergeant with gray hair who looked to be about fifty years old, though still in good physical condition, was there to greet them.
"Good to see you again, Lieutenant," he said to Yeager.
"Likewise," replied Yeager. "I'd like you to meet my newest sergeant, Bill Johns. Bill, this is Sergeant Dave Hendricks."
"Hey, there." Hendricks shook hands with Bill.
"Bill's a retired cop from Chester who just couldn't stay away from the job."
"Don't worry, I'll have you back up to speed in no time, Bill. This range is probably better than what you're used to. I should have a service weapon waiting for you in the back room, and I'll bring you some ammo and ear protectors. Any questions?"
"Not from me, thanks," replied Bill. He shrugged his shoulders to work out the tension he was feeling and turned to study the targets. His palms were sweating and he subconsciously rubbed them dry on the seat of his pants.
Hendricks went off to the back room while Bill examined the targets. They were spaced about thirty feet away from the wooden divider. In a couple of minutes, Hendricks returned carrying a box with a couple of forms on top of it, as well as two pairs of ear protectors around his neck. He handed the papers and a ballpoint pen to Bill. "Here's some paperwork for you," he said. "Just sign and date on the lines at the bottom. Make sure you press hard, 'cause you need to make three copies. You'll keep one copy as your receipt. This is just to indicate that you were issued your service weapon, and to indicate that you used the range today. I'll fill in your scores when you're done." He handed another form, which also had carbon paper between the copies, and a second pen to Yeager. Then he set the box down on the counter and opened it up. Inside was a belt holster containing a .38 Special revolver, as well as two speedloaders filled with bullets. He gave a pair of ear protectors each to Bill and John. "I'll get you more ammo when you're done shooting what you've got here," said Hendricks. "Any time you're ready, gentlemen, put on your ear protectors, pick a target, and start shooting."
OOC,[b]Bill[/b], when you're ready, please make six Handgun rolls.
Bill signed the paperwork and pushed it back across the table. He picked up the holster and carefully withdrew the revolver, feeling its unfamilar weight. He turned it over and found the latch that let the cylinder open and depressed it, opening the cylinder with a slight flick of his wrist. He picked up the speedloader and fed the tips of the bullets into the open cylinders then depressed the plunger so they dropped into place.
He checked the safety was engaged then put the gun down on the table while he adjusted his ear protectors. Making them comfortable, he picked up ther gun again and turned to the target. Remembering the 'Weaver Stance' he'd seen used in the cops shows he'd watched as he was growing up, Bill took careful aim and squeezed off all six shots.
OOC,[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2955284/]Barndoor and banjo time! (1d100=50, 1d100=74, 1d100=10, 1d100=8, 1d100=23, 1d100=49)[/url] Umm, how does two hits and a near miss sound?
The first thing Bill noticed about the revolver was that instead of a safety as an automatic pistol would have, all he had to do was make sure the hammer wasn't cocked to keep it from discharging. The weight of the gun felt surprisingly comfortable in his hand, and he discovered that he was a better shot than he'd thought he'd be. In the aisle next to him, Yeager had put on his own ear protectors and had adopted a similar stance. He emptied his revolver into his own target.
Sergeant Hendricks pushed a pair of switches on a panel nearby, and the two targets slid forward along the tracks until they reached the counter. The men removed their ear protectors so they could hear him. Four of the bullets on John Yeager's target had hit within the circles in the center of mass, but the other two had barely clipped the paper. "Four out of six," said the sergeant, writing down his score. "That's respectable, sir."
"I shouldn't have missed with those last two," said Yeager. "Must be getting sloppy."
Hendricks inspected Bill's target next. Two of the bullets had hit well within the circles on the target's chest, and a third was just outside them, touching the target's shoulder. The other three had at least hit the paper. He wrote down a score. "Not bad at all. That's about as close as you can come to a qualifying score without getting it."
"And you said you were rusty, Bill. I've served with guys in the war who couldn't shoot half that well." He turned to Hendricks. "Surely that's close enough, isn't it? That third shot of his is practically on the line."
"I don't think that'll be necessary," said Yeager. "It's close enough, for crying out loud!"
Hendricks squinted at the target. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant," he said, "but rules are rules. One point less than a qualifying score still doesn't qualify. Surely it wouldn't be too hard to just do it again."
OOC,[b]Bill[/b], if you want to try to convince [b]Hendricks[/b] to give you a qualifying score, roll Persuade. If you want to try again, please make another six Handgun rolls.
Bill studied Hendricks. The sergeant looked uncomfortable and Bill guessed he didn't like to fail anyone, particularly an older guy whose job might rely on someone passing the test. "C'mon Sarge," he said, "The LT's right - some guys in the army can't shoot that straight. I'm a little rusty, is all. We're in the middle of an important case right now. As soon as we're done, I'll be back down on the range, getting some practice in." He shrugged his shoulders, "So what do you say?"
OOC,[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2975483/]Bill tries to persuade Hendricks to give him a pass. (1d100=12)[/url] Bills Persuade score is 75.
PS. Sorry for the lack of posts this week. I'm applying for jobs, preparing for interviews and dealing with a deranged ex-partner! :(
OOC,I'm sorry to hear that. Don't worry about not being able to post. The game can proceed at your pace anyway, especially since you're the only active player remaining. Good luck finding work!
Hendricks examined the target again. "Well..." he said. "It looks like that third shot did touch the line. That gets you just enough to qualify." He wrote in Bill's score on the form and signed it, then tore off one of the copies from each form and handed them to Bill and John Yeager. "I do recommend that you keep practicing whenever you have the time. I'll just get you some more ammo to replace what you've used, and then you can get back to it." He took the empty speedloaders from the two of them and went into the back. He returned a moment later, the speedloaders filled with bullets once again, and handed them back. "If there's nothing else, I'll see you gentlemen around."
OOC,Cheers. What happened to everyone else? I must admit I've not been keeping an eye on the other threads. I knew some had dropped out, but not everyone else!
Bill took the speedloader. "Thanks, Sergeant Hendricks. Say, have you got a shoulder holster? Don't really want to carrying my piece in my pocket. Not exactly great if I need it in a hurry."
OOC,You really only need to keep an eye on your own thread, anyway. Most of the other players simply stopped posting. [b]Kathleen[/b]'s player said a couple of months ago that he needed a few weeks to get some things sorted out in real life, but he's been gone a lot longer than that. The other two players who were active in this game most recently haven't logged in for months now as well. Even if none of the existing players return and no new players join, I'm willing to continue running the game as long as you want to keep playing. If you do want to stop, though, I'll understand.
"There's a holster in that box the revolver came in," said Hendricks. "Don't forget it. It's meant to attach to your belt, but I can get you a strap to put it on if you prefer it as a shoulder holster. More than a few guys do. Hold on, I'll be right back." He vanished into the back room once more and returned quickly with the strap, to which he affixed the holster. He handed it to Bill. "Here you go."
OOC,I'm happy to carry on if you are. I've run my own games and it's really frustrating when people just stop posting :(
Bill quickly stripped off his jacket and took the holster from Sergeant Hendricks. He slipped his arm through the shoulder loops and shrugged his shoulders to settle the harness comfortably. Picking up the revolver, he slid it into the holster and snapped the thumb break shut. He nodded his thanks to Hendricks and, picking up his jacket, turned to Yaeger. "Ready when you are, LT. Where to next?"
"Back to HQ," said Yeager as he and Bill left the police academy and returned to the Mustang, "unless you have a better suggestion. By the time we get there it should be time for lunch. We can all discuss the case and our next steps back at the office. Charlie and Harry should be there too."
"Yeah, me too," said Yeager as he started up the Mustang.
The drive back to headquarters was uneventful, and the two of them returned to the office shortly before noon. The detectives on the day shift were busy working, except for those that had already started their lunch. Yeager went over to the desks where Charlie and Harry sat. "Let's all talk about the Anderson case while we eat," he said. "Amy, coffee all around, please." He ducked into his private office for a few seconds to retrieve a brown bag containing his lunch while Amy Cooper went over to the coffee machine and poured a cup for everyone. He pulled up a chair for himself and another for Bill, then slid into his seat. "So, what have we got?"
"So far, Brian Anderson hasn't done anything unusual, Lou," said Charlie. "The guys tailing him reported that he took a bus to University City and went back to his frat house, then to class."
"I got in on the experiment," said Harry. "It starts tomorrow night at 8:00."
"Good going," said John. "We'll put a wire on you so we can record what's happening, even when you're asleep. I'd feel a lot more comfortable if we knew more about Dr. Gregory Anderson before you go. There's something hinky about that guy."
Bill looked up from his cup of coffee. "What do we know about Anderson?" he asked. "Do we know where he's from? Who sponsors his work? What does the university webs.... yearbook say about him?"
"All good questions," said Yeager. "Right now we don't know much about him at all. You spoke to him last night and were inside his house, so you'd probably know more than any of us. Harry, what happened when you spoke to him this morning?"
"I didn't," said Harry. "He wasn't there. There was this lady professor who was helping him with the project named Nancy Remington."
"Was she cute?" asked Charlie.
"Yeah." Harry grinned.
"Gentlemen," said Yeager, "please try to keep your minds on the task at hand. Maybe the prof wasn't there to interview you because he wasn't back yet from his son's arraignment, or maybe he had something else to do. Charlie, did the men following Brian notice if his dad left with him?"
"They said he left alone," reported Charlie. "We don't have anyone following the prof. He could be anywhere now."
"Okay. He's not going to disappear. He has a job, a family, and an experiment to run. We've got some leads to follow up. We need to see what we can find out about Professor Anderson, and this Nancy Remington too while we're at it."
"Perhaps we oughta start at the university?" suggested Bill, "See what we can turn up. We might want to check out the university library as well, see if he's published anything - it might give us some ideas as to where his head's at. Honour societies too, if we can get that sorta infomation?" Bill sighed. He's got used to the internet and a host of - mostly reliable - information at the touch of a button - going back to trawling through journals and books didn't fill him with a great deal of enthusiasm.
Yeager picked up the phone to call to arrange a ride while Bill returned to the lobby and went outside. He didn't have long to wait before a squad car pulled up, driven by a young uniformed officer. "The lieutenant said you need a ride to University City," he said. "Hop in, Sergeant."
"Sure thing, Sarge," said the officer, pulling out. He drove west across town, across the Schuylkill River into West Philly, past the train station at 30th Street, and to the campus of the University of Pennsylvania. Bill knew from his time there that there were several libraries, but the one that would probably serve him best would be the Biomedical Library not far from John Morgan Hall, right next to the Robert Wood Johnson Pavillion. The officer pulled up not far from the edge of campus. "This good enough, Sarge? If you need a ride back when you're done, you can call Lieutenant Yeager from any payphone and he'll send someone to pick you up."
"That's great, thanks," replied Bill as the car rolled up to the kerb. He got out of the squad car and looked around. Some of the newer buildings Bill was used to seeing were yet to make an appearance but stranger still were the 'old' buildings, now grafitti-free and in good repair.
Bill shook his head and started walking down the street. He'd been pretty square at university, not like the full-on, kaftan-wearing, free-loving hippies that were around at the time. He looked around at the youngsters passing by, wondering if he'd see his old self and what he'd do if he did...
Five minutes later, he arrived at the Biomedical University. Making his way through the revolving doors - replaced by electronic doors and the ubiquitous metal detector in his time - he approached the front desk where an older woman sat, stamping books and updating records in a rolodex. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said, discretely showing the woman his shield, "I wonder if you can help me?"
Bill glanced around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "I'm seeking some information about papers or articles written by one of the professors here at the university. Might you be able to point me in the right direction?" It occured to Bill as he asked the question that perhaps he should have perhaps made an enquiry at the Dean's office first. He'd hoped to make a low-key visit but he wasn't sure this was the best way to go about it.
The librarian smiled when she heard Bill keeping his voice low, and she answered him with equally low volume, though Bill realized that she most likely did this to avoid disturbing those studying and not out of the same sense of discretion he had. "Of course, sir," she replied. "The card catalog is here, right beside my desk." She indicated it. "You'll find research papers over in the Periodicals and Reference Section, over there." She pointed out a section in one corner of the library.
OOC,[b]Bill[/b], please roll Spot Hidden to see if you notice anything while glancing around. Also, roll Library Use if you want to look up [b]Professor Anderson[/b] and find anything he may have published.
"Thank you, ma'am," replied Bill quietly, returning her smile. He moved around to the card catalog and started sorting, looking for any references to works by Professor Anderson.
OOC,Spot Hidden: [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3052812/]I spy with my little eye... ... (Spot Hidden in the Library) (1d100=35)[/url] - Fail.
Library Use: [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3052840/]Card sharp! (Library Use in the umm... Library) (1d100=16)[/url] - Success.
Bill did indeed find from the card catalog that the library had a number of Dr. Gregory Anderson's published works, including his thesis, titled "An Analysis of Human Volition in Differing States of Consciousness." However, when he went to look for them in the stacks, he found that they weren't there. Most of these materials weren't for circulation. Either they had been removed somehow, or someone was looking at them currently in the library. He walked along the tables where people were studying, looking at the titles of books and papers that they were reviewing. He finally found them in a pile on a table being used by two familiar faces. One of them was Bernard Braithwaite, the young British man he had seen twice the night before, first at Lenny's Bar and later at police headquarters, visiting the imprisoned Brian Anderson. The woman with him was about forty years old, and he had seen her at the bar as well. She had been in the company of that revolutionary girl with the fiery red hair, though her companion was nowhere to be seen at the moment. And there was something else familiar about her, something that eluded him. What were the two of them doing researching Dr. Gregory Anderson?
OOC,[b]Bill[/b], please roll Idea to see if you can recall why the woman is familiar.
OOC,[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3063930/]Bill gets his thinking cap on... (1d100=53)[/url] Yup, got it.
PS. Sorry for the lack of posts - job hunting again.
OOC,That's okay. I hope you can find a good job. We can proceed at your pace.
Bill recalled why this woman seemed familiar. She had been one of the participants in the experiment, and so had her redheaded friend. He didn't remember anything about them from when he had met them forty years before - from his perspective, though his younger self would meet them tomorrow night. All he remembered was that they had been there.
OOC,There are some shelves not too far away that you could duck behind, but they're far enough away that you would need to make a Listen roll to overhear anything.
Bill walked casually to the end of the stack and moved out of sight. He stepped quickly through the stacks and circled around to the stack behind where the young couple sat. He carefully moved a couple of the books to make it easier to hear anything said and stood there, book in hand as if reading, trying to catch anything they might say.
OOC,[b]Bill[/b], please roll Listen.
Also, while the man is young, the woman is about forty years old. A good deal younger than you, yes, but about fifteen years older than the man.
OOC,[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3095273/]Bill's sneaking 'round the library. (1d100=13)[/url]
Sorry for the delay - had a few problems with Invisible Castle :(
OOC,That's okay. If Invisible Castle is ever down, you can always use another dice roller or real dice instead.
From his position behind the stacks, Bill was able to hear the two of them talking quietly as they finished their research.
"That was the old man we saw last night at Lenny's Bar," said the woman. "What do you suppose he's doing here?"
"I dunno," said Bernard. "Some light reading, maybe?"
"There's got to be some connection. It can't be a coincidence. He's in this up to his eyeballs."
"Do you think he's following us?"
"I don't know." She paused. "All of this stuff is just too weird. I know this Professor Anderson is up to something shady. What we've found out points in that direction, but we can't prove anything. And even if we could, he's bound to have connections."
"Do you still want to go through with the experiment?"
"Yes. It's the only way to get to the bottom of this."
"Well, let's put all this stuff back and get going. Where's your friend Kathy?"
"Beats me. She's probably off doing whatever she feels like. She's a free spirit. I'd have thought she'd be here by now, but she might have flaked out. Maybe she'll be waiting for us back at her place."
The two of them got up and headed back to the shelves to replace the books and articles that Bill had come here to find.
Bill gave a low whistle under his breath. He wasn't the only one who had suspicions about Anderson! He thought about confronting the pair but decided to check with Yeagar first - if they had been at the bar last night there was a chance that they had been questioned and the police already knew who they were.
He watched them go then quickly walked over to the shelves and retrieved the books and articles by Anderson. He made his way over to the front desk and attracted the attention of the librarian who had earlier been so helpful. "I know this is probably against all your regulations," Bill said quietly, showing her his badge, "But is there any way I could borrow these? They could be evidence in a really important case that's about to go down."
"Yes, it is against the rules," said the librarian. "Many of those materials aren't allowed to be circulated at all, and even for the ones that are, they can only be checked out by students. Are you saying that these particular copies of the books and papers themselves are evidence, or just the information within them? We do have a copying machine available for a fee, but that would be quite expensive if you wanted to copy entire books. The best thing for you to do would be to read them here, and then to copy any pages that are especially relevant to your case."
"It's really just the information they contain," replied Bill. He glanced at his watch then looked around the room for an empty table where he could sit. "I'll read them and get back to you on the copying," he said and headed over to the nearest empty table to begin.
OOC,Bill will start with the journals as that should give him a quick flavour of the work that Anderson's been doing. He'll concentrate in particular on anything to do with the sleep experiments that the doctor is planning to carry out this evening.
Bill was able to find a good deal of information on Dr. Gregory Anderson. By the time he was done, it was past 4:00 PM.
The man had been born on July 4, 1921 in Washington, D.C. to Brian and Charlotte Anderson. His father had been a respected brain surgeon, and Dr. Anderson had followed in his father's footsteps. After graduating from Johns Hopkins in 1942 with a bachelor's degree in biology, he interrupted his studies and volunteered in the Army in World War II, where he served as a medic in North Africa, and later Italy, France, the Low Countries, and Germany. At some point in 1943 he was recruited by the fledgling OSS, the precursor to the CIA. His military record was one of distinction, and he received two Bronze Stars and a Silver Star for bravery under fire. After the war he was stationed in West Berlin. He returned to America in 1948 after receiving an honorable discharge, and he attended medical school at Johns Hopkins, earning his M.D. in 1952. After that he took a teaching position at George Washington University, where he remained on the faculty until 1968, at which point he took a job offer from the University of Pennsylvania, where he currently taught. He had a wife, Susan, who he married in 1948. They had a son named Brian (after his grandfather, apparently), who was born in 1949.
Dr. Anderson had published numerous papers throughout his academic career. His thesis subject was "An Analysis of Human Volition in Differing States of Consciousness." Bill was able to find a copy of the thesis in the library, but the subject matter was way beyond him. There were also copies of some of Dr. Anderson's other published works in the library, but again he did not know enough about biology and medicine to get a deep understanding of them. From what Bill could gather, they were heavily focused on sleep and dreaming, and about measuring and influencing neural activity in differing stages of sleep. One paper dealt with neural activity and REM sleep in patients in prolonged comas.
OOC,[b]Bill[/b], you may attempt a Medicine roll to see if you learned anything more from [b]Anderson[/b]'s papers.
OOC,Nope! [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3108957/]Is there a doctor in the house? Bill tries to read and understand Anderson's thesis. (1d100=91)[/url]
Bill scratched his head. He taught at university so he'd always thought of himself as pretty intelligent but this was beyond him. Carrying the thesis across to the main desk, he said quiety to the librarian, "I err, don't suppose you have Zerox machine by any chance?"
"Of course," said the librarian. "Copies are five cents per page."
It cost a good deal, as the thesis was fairly thick, but Bill was able to copy it easily along with any other pages he might feel would be relevant. He recalled that Lieutenant Yeager had said that he could call in to headquarters to get a ride back when he was done, and there was a payphone readily available.
It was a while and a pile of nickels before the copying was finished. While the librarian bound the pages together, Bill picked up a couple of spare nickels and moved across to the payphone. He dialled the number for the station and waited for a response.
It didn't long for Bill to be connected to Lieutenant Yeager. "Any luck, Bill?" he asked. "If you're ready to come back to HQ, I can get a ride to you pretty fast. A couple of the guys are about to go off shift, and they're already on campus. They're Detectives Hendricks and Stoker. Hendricks is the brother of the sergeant from the firing range. You met them this morning at roll call. In fact, they're the guys Charlie assigned to tail Brian, but it looks like they lost him. Seems he got a buddy of his at his frat house to dress up like him and lead them away. They saw through it before long, but it was enough time that he could have slipped out. They're still watching the place just in case, and a couple of guys from the graveyard shift are coming to relieve them."
"Just stand outside the front entrance," said Yeager. "They'll come by in a few minutes. When you get back, we can all discuss the case. See you there."
Yeager hung up, and Bill went outside to wait for the detectives. He did not have to wait long.
OOC,[b]Bill[/b] is moving to the thread linked below.
