Reuben Overman stroked the upholstery in the stretch limo as the driver took them effortlessly along the underpass at the bridge, along the freeway bridges over the river, and on to other freeways. He sighed wistfully. He wasn't meant to be a revenue officer. He should be in the place of the sharp business woman to his right.
She was talking about how he was to launder her Internet matrix gains and make it look kosher and above board. Her plan involved a computer program that promised great wealth to those who signed up, and he would have certain hidden roles to play.
Reuben tuned her out. He knew he ought to be paying attention and looking for a way out, but it was his love of nice things - like her limo - that had got him into this trouble in the first place. He wished--
"You're not listening to me, Reuben!" she interrupted his thoughts. "I thought you were bright, reliable. What are you really?"
"Gutless," he muttered, gazing out the one-way window.
He heard his grandmother quoting the Bible in his head, "Be sure your sins will find you out!"
Reuben sighed again. If he had not wanted the accoutrements of wealth, if he had chosen to follow God, like his best friend, James, had, if he had not started gambling online, then this woman wouldn't be blackmailing him, and turning him into her own private loophole through the tax laws.
The driver slowed down as they came into the city center streets and traffic was congested. Reuben saw the grassy median strip, and considered opening the door and rolling out, and then running. But when he lightly tested the door handle he discovered it was controlled by a master lock.
The woman in black reached out an dug her long red finger nails into his wrist, "Resign yourself, Reuben. You're mine and you can learn to like it. Dirk has orders to shoot if you try to escape." She allowed herself a smug, satisfied smile as she settled back.
They had just turned a corner and were half a block from the Federal building where he was to file false income reports for her, when all traffic ground to a halt, and a great din came from the pedestrians which swarmed in from between the buildings, began to pound on cars and shout foul slogans. Mostly at some silent sign holders in front of a clinic, but also at the rest of the world.
"A Riot?" screamed the woman, with a long breath-full of oaths. She whipped out her cell phone and she was busy speed-dialing the police, her lawyer, all kinds of numbers.
Reuben watched in amazement and shock too great to grasp the extreme fear of the woman who was to be his employer. He hung in limbo.
The driver slid open the inner window to shout, "Sit tight! It's only an abortion-pro life clash. It's over soon."
At that Reuben began to panic. If it was over soon, his chances of getting out and confessing to his wrongs would be over. He had a window of opportunity here. "Think!" he commanded himself.
A police officer was at the driver's window momentarily. When it rolled down, he seemed to assume they were pro abortion. He asked solicitously if they were all right.
Reuben didn't dare shake his head no, but with his face turned so the woman couldn't read it, he mouthed, "I'm kidnapped!" He kept his wrist pressed together between his legs, and looked as wounded and frightened as he felt.
The officer stepped over to open his door with one hand and with the other reached in by the driver to throw the master switch for the doors.
As Reuben was hurrying to get out, the woman clawed after him, but in doing so, her pretty blue cell phone shot out of her grasp and landed on the street at Reuben's feet.
Realizing the officer was busy talking with the woman, Reuben snatched up the cell phone, knowing he was taking a lot of her secret auto-dial numbers with him, and took off.
On the other side of the street an officer was herding pro life protestors into a paddy wagon. Reuben got out sight on the other side of the wagon, and allowed himself to be herded into it too. At the police station they would question him, and he would finally confess all his faults, and give a full and honest report. He gripped the cell phone with both hands.
His wagon mates were clapping each other on the back and encouraging one another. Someone gave him a cheerful pat on the knee, and Reuben was suddenly glad. He had escaped subjection and was going to do the right thing too.
About the Author: Ruth Marlene Friesen is a caregiver, novelist, web designer and friend with more imagination that she can use up! You'll find her touch and her words all over Ruthe's Secret Roses, and about half a dozen other sites. Look out, Ruth tends to get involved if you become her friend! She takes mentoring seriously.
Ruth Marlene Friesen
The Responsible One
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