PlayBall

Game On

Jack could smell his own sweat, this panic setting off all his nerve endings, his breathing so quick and shallow he felt like a flounder flopping on this tabletop between these thick corded arms wrapping his torso like sisal rope on a schooner, effortlessly holding him from floating away on these tumultuous currents flowing though his mind, barely tethered to this wooden deck below him.

“You got nowhere to run to baby…no where to hide…“ Rashid cooed in his ear, that melody hanging in the air, that hollow expanse of the Interview Room freezing those words in this new challenge yet to be folded into his current troubles.

Jack had spent his adult years in this precinct, had spent his entire formative years growing up in this Town, he knew everyone and the Townies had put all their faith in his ability to keep peace on these streets,but too suddenly this world had been flipped upside down.

That familiarity had not spread contempt, just too much complacency, and those last two years had tipped the equilibrium of this Town, cascading downhill to his desk, challenging his command and ultimately his respect in Town.

Sitting midpoint between Boston and New York had always seemed an advantage to the lifeblood of his Town. The influx of that Student Body at Corpus Christi College introduced the coming Fall and Spring uptick in all activity, cooler winds and colorful foliage drawing seasonal tourists through Main Street on cue followed by those Christmas family festivities and winter sportsters looking for escape from bleaker Winter urban options, the Townies adjusting their schedules as if clockwork.

It was that constancy, this expectation that gave the dull sheen of stability and when it suddenly went sideways the reaction from the powers that be was sudden and extreme, placing all established routines and patterns under a harsh strobe light.

It could not be confirmed how that delivery systems had been introduced but that flow of drugs suddenly increased overdoses throughout the county, desperate calls for help in domestic disturbances and increases in seperations and divorces, car-jackings that were now too prevalent and unexplained, it had all seemed to snowball.

Those murders down Highway Nine over the last year stood as demarcation to this gradual escalation of petty crimes, at first seemingly opportunistic but now creeping county wide, and any local enforcement attempts in those surrounding Towns soon seen as a futile game of Whack-A-Mole.

It was too clear that the funnel for this virus was Highway Nine, that artery a straight shot from Boston to New York, that delivery line for the urban desire for recreational drugs but this was just the bastard offspring from that earlier illicit trade in alcohol during Prohibition, the ongoing delivery system for illegal International imports into those ports, the track taken by any number of illegal immigrants looking to escape the dangerous ghettos in those overcrowded cities.

The only difference in those equations was the amount of monies changing hands and  everyone seemed to have their hands out or thrown into the air in desperation. 

So the local Police Squads now had monthly confabs with the State Highway Patrol, the Feds were suddenly setting up camp in those abandoned building in that Federal Preserve at the far edge of Town and the paperwork alone was swamping  Captain Harding.

The magnet for this lucrative drug trade in the immediate area was the Student Body at Corpus Christi College and that symbiotic balancing act was suddenly thrown into flux.

“How can I fight a love that shouldn't be when it's so deep, so deep, deep inside of me…” 

Captain Harding heard those words as if they were sung aloud but the only sounds in that room was that slapping of flesh, their desperate moans as they coasted to that orgasm they both felt welling up in their guts.

Surrendering to this unfettered carnal assault in his own safe space, the center square of all activity re-setting stability in this Town was dizzying, but a satisfying distraction to those problems on Post-It notes spread across his desk. 

Suddenly these pieces suddenly clicked and Jack had an outline of a master plan, and the advantage was it would put this Black Stud Puppet as a permanent blip on his radar.

He didn't care who thought who was going to be working who.

Tonight had been a win-win.

To Be Continued.