Heeeeeerrrrreees LUCY! Is Registered
"Heeeeeerrrrreees LUCY!" is a chapter in the book "The Bard of Bel Air" and is registered with FanStory.com
Registered by michaelcahill on Apr 29 2014 01:38 AM EST
Registration ID: 696238

Copyright Holder Name: michaelcahill
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Previously, Johnathon Blackwell Senior, Harpster, was found to be alive and a hostage of his son Winston, who had turned from a war hero into a money hungry mercenary. The Bard had been arrested, bailed out and kidnapped by his benefactors. Upon reuniting with Harpster we learned that The Bard had a military background that might come in handy in helping them escape. We continue now as we find Tenaya, driving from the precinct, preparing to contact her partner, Lucy and fill her in on the lastest developments.
Tenaya couldn't be any more angry than she was at this moment. That son of a bitch is so totally in on it. Whose damn Humvee is that in the employee parking lot? Not one of ours. Maybe Arnold is researching a movie. Boy, have I got a damn plot for him. Naw, too damn complicated for him. She had to call Lucy and give her a heads up.
"Lucy, it's me. I'm suspended or fired, I don't know which. That bastard is up to his eyeballs in it. I can feel it. Play it cool. I suggest you turn on me as far as work goes. Cover your ass. Adrian was a loose cannon…wild theories…just want to do your job…blah, blah, blah. They have the Bard. Bailed him out this morning…gone…who knows. Trust no one. Well find a meeting place. Low profile. Later."
Lucy looked around the house. Lincoln was there somewhere. Emma and Daniel were downstairs as far as she knew. Everyone else was gone. Time to find Lincoln and start working him.
He looks like he's buried in the sand up to his neck and the tide is coming up. Like that movie…what was the name of that?...can't think of it…oh well…that guy looked braver. "They kidnapped that homeless guy. I wonder what’s up with that? This place is beginning to feel dangerous. You know what's going on better than anyone. Was Blackwell murdered? Does that homeless guy know something? Am I next?"
"There's nothing going on, Lucy. I was here when Mr. Blackwell passed away. The doctor did everything he could do. His heart just gave out. I just hope I'm alive if they ever revive him. He was always good to me and Isabel. We were like family. This homeless man was trespassing. It wasn't my call. I suspect a man has a right to protect his property. What makes you think he was kidnapped. How do you know those men weren't his friends?"
God. You are too damn easy. Lie, lie, lie. How do you know who picked him up? Jeez. Can I take your confession now? I'm going secret agent on him. "Look, Lincoln. You can drop the façade. I know all about everything. I know about the fake drivers for the cryogenics lab, I know about juniors involvement, the doctors and I know about the payment to you. I don't know where they took Senior or if he is dead or alive. I don't know where they took Slater or if he is alive. If you want to cooperate, we'll go easy on you. If not, I’ll fry you along with the rest of them. That's your choice to make."
Lincoln just burst out laughing. It was not the reaction that Lucy was hoping for or expecting. "You're gonna' fry me? Ha! You think Isabel got fired? She's downstairs warming her feet by the fireplace…from the inside! This family thinks nothing about killing their own. You think you scare me? Your're the one that needs to be scared. I don't know a damn thing. I know this: Yessir' Massa Blackwell. Ya sure do looks handsome tonight sir. Y'all let me know now what butt cheek y'all want me to kiss now ya hear? That's what I knowMiss CIA, FBI. KFC or whatever you are. Any other questions for me, Missy Lucy?"
Lucy walked over to the table where her oversize purse was. She reached inside and pulled out two items. She put the cuffs in her left hand. In her right hand, she had a service revolver, which she pointed at Lincoln. "Turn around and face the wall. Put your hands on your head, interlacing your fingers." Lincoln looked rather surprised as he turned around and complied. Lucy cuffed Lincoln and read him his rights.
She rattled off a list of charges. She said, "You're gonna love it when I drop you off in public and give you a big hug and a sloppy kiss on the lips. I know your buddies will like it too. Scared now, you lowlife bitch? You let your friend rot downstairs for a few bucks. You deserve everything that's coming to you. I'm glad you decided to play it chicken shit. A punk like you knows nuthin' anyway."
All of the arrogance and bravado drained right out of him. "They're gonna kill me. You can't do this. No! I'll tell you anything you want to know. He ain't dead. He ain't dead. The doc. He's in on it. He paralyzed him. Signed the death certificate. I wasn't supposed to be here. Just came back for my wallet. Twenty grand. That's all. Ain't worth it. Please, Lucy. They'll kill me for sure." Lincoln was close to tears.
Lucy put her hand around Lincoln's throat and slammed him against the wall. She took her knee and placed it firmly against his crotch. "I'm not a regular girl, Lincoln. Things got a little out of hand training me. I'd rather take care of you myself than arrest you, know what I mean?" She released him and spun him around. She undid his cuffs and returned them to her purse along with her service revolver.
Lucy sat at the dining room table. All look of menace had completely vanished from her visage. That scared Lincoln even more. She spoke in her regular sweet voice. "Is that fresh coffee? I brought some baklava, enough for two. It's on the table in the kitchen. Join me?"
Lincoln managed to croak out an, "Of course". He stepped into the kitchen and returned shortly with two cups of coffee and a plate with baklava. He used the antique Wedgewood china. He began to volunteer information. "It is about weapons and military secrets. Of course, at the bottom of everything is money. Lots of money. Blackwell is one of the most liquid billionaires in the world. His money is tied up in money: bearer bonds, silver, gold and cash. He has real estate, rare art and things. But, he likes real spendable money. That is what makes the arms trade run. You don't put flamethrowers on your Visa card. You want untraceable transactions. The more illegal it is the less paper you want. They didn't know that I was a communications specialist in Nam. Harpster didn't pay any attention to his new surveillance toys, but I did. I've got back up too. Don't think you live in the squeaky-clean U.S. of A., Lucy. The cutting edge research on biological and chemical weapons is being done right here in the land of the free. Winston got his hands on it. It is priceless to some of these countries. The Chinese have unlimited funds for it. That's the play. If they don't buy from him, they'll buy from the next guy."
Lincoln looked down at his coffee cup. Lucy took a bite of her baklava. "Go on."
"Well, that's about it. I have nothing to do with it. They don't know that I know all of this. They think I have suspicions about Blackwell, that's all. Twenty grand to keep quiet about maybes. Just insurance. I'm not a priority. Blackwell and his toys though, they had no idea about that. They didn't know that he paid no attention to any of his own surveillance. That's why he's alive. They think he knows something. Apparently he's been able to keep them thinking that."
Lucy didn't respond. She let the events of the last few minutes work their way through Lincoln's mind. She sipped her coffee and nibbled on her desert. Lincoln sat there looking at the floor. He knows a lot about what's going on for an outsider. He's been watching and documenting, no doubt. This isn't the Bard, sitting up in a treehouse. This is someone that could help her nail these people to the wall. But, could she count on him. She didn't think so. Still, she would have to up to a point.
"I'm not on their side, Lucy. I'm just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I just want to survive. I've got family. I want to see my grandkids grow. If I can help, I will. But, I want assurances that you can protect me. Doing the right things is great for the movies. Actors that die in movies are still alive in real life. In real life, when you're dead, you're dead."
"You'll have your chance to prove yourself. So far, you haven't proven a damn thing to me. You take the easy way every time. You have no convictions. That makes you weak. Maybe you'll turn out to be someone your grandkids can be proud of. I hope so. As far as assurances go, I can assure you that if you screw me or any one of my friends over you'll beg for death."