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Subject: {ASSM} The Innocent Fugitives: Epilog {Varkel} (Nosex)
Date: Thu,  8 Mar 2001 15:10:03 -0500
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The Innocent Fugitives
a Novel by Varkel
Copyright (C) 2001, Varkel



Epilog:  Coincidence



"This place is as wet as Seattle!  What's the Spanish for _Wet_ 
Airs?  That's what this town should be called."

The bartender, idly wiping the bar with a moist cloth, answered 
the boorish tourist with ill-disguised disdain.  "Buenos Aires is 
rainy in March, Senor, not all year around."

Barry Sonnenschein glanced up at the complainer.  He saw an 
imposing well-dressed man who had just leaned against the bar two 
empty stools down.  He grinned at the man.  "Well, it's better 
than Phoenix in March."

"Ah, an American voice!"  The stranger responded with his own 
smile and a slight wave of his hand.

"Yes," Barry admitted, "but don't stress that in here.  These 
people are still angry for our help to the British during the 
Falklands war."

"Did we help the British?"

"Just ask the bartender.  We sold Argentina an obsolete cruiser 
that broke in half at the hit of a single missile, which, of 
course, we had also sold to the Brits."

"Gringos," muttered the bartender, polishing a glass.

"Well," responded the big man with a wink for Barry, "would you 
like to earn some gringo money?  How about selling us a drink?"

The bartender sneered, "A Bloody Uncle Sam, without doubt!"

"Eh?"

Barry laughed.  "They really have such a drink."  He held up his 
tumbler of red liquid.  "Tomato juice and bourbon."

The big man laughed too.  "Hell, then it's the patriotic thing to 
drink.  Sure, mac, I'll have a Bloody Uncle Sam."  He turned to 
the woman on his left.  "What will you have, dear?"  She was a 
brunette, plain, short and stocky but fashionably dressed with 
her hair bound up in a gemstone clip.  She smiled and asked for a 
Bloody Mary.

As the big man ordered for her, a man in formal clothes stopped 
and spoke to Barry, who immediately said to his fellow American, 
"They just informed us, Alice and me, that they have a table 
ready for us on the rail.  Would you and your lady care to join 
us?"

"For dinner?"  The big man looked at his woman, whose eyes 
twinkled.  "Yes, thank you."

The twinkling eyes widened when Alice, to the right of 
Sonnenschein, rose from her barstool and proved to be tall as the 
big man and probably as heavy.  It amused Barry, who winked at 
Alice.  At least the large woman's very Negroid features seemed 
of no concern to the stranger.  He led her by the hand as they 
followed the maitre d'hotel to their table.

Having seated his woman, Barry said, "I think introductions are 
in order.  I am Barry Sonnenschein and this is my very good 
friend and companion, Alice Darbon."

"We are pleased to meet you," intoned the big man.  "I am John 
Clemens, no relation to Samuel, and this is my wife, Ruth.  In 
fact we are Canadians."

"Then you must hail from Toronto!"

John winked at Ruth.  "From Windsor, actually.  And you folks?"

"We're both from Chicago.  We work for the same hospital and 
decided to take our vacation together.  Are you on holiday, too?"

"No, I'm afraid it's business for the Clemens.  Are you doctors, 
then?"

"Well, doctor and nurse.  We work at Atkins, a children's 
hospital."

Ruth said wistfully, "How nice to be around children all day!"

Barry held back the words, "Not these," that trembled on his 
tongue.

For the next few minutes they were busy ordering appetizers and 
studying the elaborate menu.  Both of the men were pleased to 
discover that they understood enough French to make sense of it.  
They translated for their women.  The general conversation did 
not actually resume until the waiter had taken their full dinner 
orders and departed.

The big man leaned back in his chair and cocked an eyebrow at 
Barry.  "So you work at Atkins!  I was interested in a patient 
there recently.  I wonder if you happened to run across one named 
Bobbie Gentry.  She was about 12 or 13, with --"

"Yes.  We both knew her," Barry said too quickly, flicking a 
glance at Alice.  "May I ask, what was your interest in her?"

John's eyebrows rose fractionally.  "Actually I was interested in 
her, ah, foster parents."

"Oh," said Barry with evident relief.  "Because of their 
entanglement with the law?"

"Yes, exactly.  I understand that the charges against them were 
dropped."

"Better than that.  They were proven not guilty at all.  I 
released Bobbie to their custody just before Alice and I left on 
vacation."

"Did you!"

Barry found his guests staring at him.  Suddenly he realized that 
both the man and the woman had _that_ look.  He took a breath.  
"Surely the authorities no longer have any interest in those 
people."

John's eyes twinkled.  "I told you, we're Canadians."

"Are you Mounties?"

"Definitely not."  John chuckled.  "Do we look like cops, Barry?"

"Yes, you do."

"Well, we're not," the big man declared positively.

Alice asked suddenly, "Does denying that you're a policeman when 
you are have the same probative significance as claiming it when 
you aren't?"

"Probably not," admitted the big man coolly.  He studied Barry.  
"You're worried about Bobbie, the little nympho, are you?"  He 
chuckled at the other's expression.  "Well, you've come to the 
right place.  At this point in history Argentina would never 
honor an American extradition request just for a pedophile."

"What are you implying?" Barry barked, sitting straight in his 
chair.

Alice sniffed.  "We came here because of me."

John shrugged.  "Well, of course."

Barry removed the napkin from his lap.  "I think we'd better 
cancel dinner."

"Oh, no, please!"  John raised a cautionary hand with a frown of 
concern.  "I don't care a fig about that girl, one way or the 
other.  It sounds like you're well rid of her, anyway.  Please 
keep your seat.  The dinner's on me."

Barry leaned forward.  "Perhaps we'll stay if you'll explain how 
Canadians who aren't policemen were ever interested enough in 
Lanning and Collier to know about Bobbie.  I don't think the 
newspapers ever mentioned them together.  In Chicago they were 
called the Smith family."

John hesitated.  He grinned slowly.  "Would you believe I 
abducted them from the Chicago police so they could clear their 
names in Ohio?"

"John!" warned Ruth ominously.  "You're being reckless."

"Don't worry," he said to her in an aside.  "Argentina hasn't 
honored an American extradition request since the Falklands war."

Ruth shook her head.  "I'm afraid the Argentines would love to 
warm up relations by handing you over in chains."

John sniffed.  "Maybe so, but Barry won't turn us in, will you, 
Barry?"

The latter's eyes were nearly large as his spectacles.  "You ... 
you're John Calhoun, aren't you!"

John grinned.  "I heard about the tape Bobbie made for Lanning.  
How much persuasion would it take for her to tell about you, Dr. 
Sonnenschein?"

"I know all about that tape.  I was her psychiatrist.  I read the 
reports of what you did to her foster parents, you and your 
mother.  What do you suggest for Bobbie: hanging her by her 
wrists and torturing her until she'll say anything?"  Barry was 
fuming and half out of his chair.  "I would very much enjoy 
seeing a monster like you handed over to justice.  Jenny told me 
even more about you than the newspapers would print."

Ruth leaned forward to study Barry.  "Did you talk extensively 
with Jenny Collier after her release?"

"Yes, I certainly did!  I couldn't give her Bobbie without 
satisfying myself that the child's best interest would be 
served."

"Very commendable!  Did Ms. Collier describe the final events of 
her imprisonment?"

Barry looked from the woman to John, watching with an air of 
readiness.  He noticed the big man's hands on the table, the 
fingers of each pressed together and arched in the manner of a 
karate expert.  Turning back to the woman, he answered, "I think 
so."

She nodded.  "Then you should understand that now John lives by a 
different moral code, one having values you respect.  Nothing 
would be gained for anyone by informing."

"Perhaps.  But isn't it the duty of every citizen to tell what he 
knows?"

"Just a minute!" Alice intervened firmly.  "No one is going to 
tell anyone about anything."

Barry turned to look at her in surprise.  Her sculptured face was 
like moist granite and her eyes bored into his.  He conceded 
slowly, "It's true that the past cannot be undone."

"Exactly!"  John relaxed in his seat.  "All that's behind us.  
Now we're all different people, with new goals and" -- he tilted 
his head from Alice to Ruth -- "truly special new partners."  He 
raised his glass.  "Here's to the future!"

Barry raised his glass only partially.  "All right, but a 
separate future!  Alice and I are the same persons as before, and 
we're returning home to practice honorable professions.  We're 
not at all of your ilk.  We won't have to hide under rocks for 
the rest of our lives."

Alice placed a hand on his shoulder.  "Chill it, Barry.  We're in 
a foreign place.  It's almost like living in a dream.  Nothing 
matters here."

Sonnenschein's eyes glowered before he relaxed.  "Yes, of course 
you're right.  Events have a new logic here."

Soon the food arrived.  Slicing his meat, Barry asked, "Have you 
been keeping up with all the speculation about your escape and 
whereabouts?"

"How could we?" asked John.  "Do you have any news?"

"Yes.  The Bering police chief, forgot his name, and a couple 
others resigned because of allegations in the famous 'Calhoun 
Journals.'  All the commentators have agreed that other rogue 
cops are hiding you out in the system.  Just to satisfy my 
curiosity, if you don't mind, how _did_ you escape?"

John chewed and swallowed.  "To escape you only have to move 
faster than your pursuers.  Ruth and I simply abandoned 
everything.  I had some cash in a misregistered old clunker.  We 
drove straightaway to the Indianapolis International airport, out 
of state where the Ohio net couldn't readily display our 
pictures.  I rented a plane and a pilot, and we flew as newlyweds 
to Montreal for our honeymoon, don't you know.  There I bought 
Canadian IDs and passports."  He grinned.  "It helps to be rich 
when you're on the run.  Of course I have disguised accounts in 
foreign banks.  We've been skipping around, checking on them, 
adjusting them.  Soon we'll select permanent IDs and a congenial 
host country where we can settle down for the long haul."

"Where I can have my children," Ruth added with a far-away look.

"Do you have any training in obstetrics, Barry?"  Calhoun asked 
casually.

He received an affirmative nod in reply, which caused the big man 
to smile and propose a later meeting.


* * *


When they returned to their room, Alice asked, "Barry, what are 
you going to do?"

"About John Calhoun?  By the way, why did you jump in and stop me 
reminding him of all his sins?  I was starting to make him 
squirm."

"You think so?  I know that type.  He was getting ready to come 
over the table and crush your skull."

"I thought that was it.  I did notice his karate hands, which is 
why I went along."  He regarded her thoughtfully.  "You think I 
ought to turn him in after all, don't you?"

"The man's a monster!  And you don't have to worry about the cops 
believing anything _he_ says about you!"

"Perhaps not, so long as Bobbie remains well-hidden in Kentucky, 
though I wouldn't be surprised if John knows all about her.  That 
woman they're staying with, Hannah What's-her-name, has a maid, 
according to Jenny, who's pregnant and says it's John's baby.  
What do you bet she's talked with him?  But John turning me in is 
not the issue."

"The issue?  Do you mean you've decided _not_ to rat?"

"I have.  And furthermore I ask you, please don't you report him 
either."

"But why, Barry?  He's a multiple murderer, a torturer and a 
killer many times over.  You know that!"

"Yes, I do.  But when Ruth delivers that embryo she's carrying, I 
suspect he'll call me for help.  I'll go with the OB."

Alice's face set in hard lines.  "Please tell me why."

"The interview!  They had to leave quickly tonight, but he'll 
hold still for that one."

"What interview?"

"John is a most unusual and gifted man.  I'm convinced he could 
be another Hitler -- and might make it yet if he lands in the 
right trouble spot.  If I can figure out the basis of his 
psychosis and describe it properly, I'll acquire a reputation 
that will set me up for life."

Alice stared at him, at first with something approaching horror.  
Gradually her expression became a lopsided smile.  "Men!" she 
cried, gazing at him fondly.  "The complicated and screwy things 
they lavish themselves upon!  I swear all the troubles of the 
world would be solved if they could have real babies, too."


END
Copyright (C) 2001, Varkel

Varangian:  ludmax11@hotmail.com
Kellis:     kellis@dhp.com
Stories of Varkel at http://www.dhp.com/files/Authors/kellis/www

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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